How To Be A Hero
by Myrime
Summary: "It is not a good story to tell. It doesn't have a happy ending." She frowned at that. "But everyone here is happy." - Remus, Tonks and an end that really is a beginning.
1. How To Be A Hero

How To Be A Hero

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_This moment will be just another story someday._  
(The Perks Of Being A Wallflower – Stephen Chbosky)

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"Why are you sad?" a young voice ripped Remus out of his bitter musings. Looking up surprised, he found Andromeda's daughter watching him expectantly. He never noticed the ceremony being over, but people were standing around in small groups, talking with serious faces and important voices, but altogether quite relaxed.

"It's a sad day," he answered finally, not bothering to wipe away the tears that were still running down his gaunt face. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

"But everyone else is happy," the girl offered. And she was right. A lot of the people present only came to honour those who had helped end the war. They weren't grieving.

Whoever were James and Lily Potter, anyway?

The remaining members of the Order had opted for a small, private ceremony, but then the Ministry had come and made an official affair out of it.

"Most of them didn't know Lily and James."

"But you did?" she looked slightly confused, twirling one of her blond pigtails – which, surely, were Andromeda's doing – around a finger.

"Yes," Remus smiled and it hurt but that really wasn't the time for another breakdown. "They were my best friends."

She cocked her head at that, maybe a tad unsure. "Then where is the rest of your friends? They should be here when you're sad."

He clenched his eyes shut, trying hard not to think about Peter's finger and Sirius' mad, barking laughter that still echoed in his mind. "They," he finally croaked, "They couldn't make it."

She frowned. "And instead, everyone else came? That's stupid."

"Yeah," Remus chuckled. "But my friends did something very brave and this is the Ministry's way to thank them."

"That's stupid," the girl repeated. Then she looked at the two new graves and back to him, as if contemplating something. "Mum said they are heroes. Maybe you should thank them, too."

"Nymphadora, right?" Remus asked, ignoring her grimace and indignant '_Noo, Tonks_'. "You know, I'd rather had living friends than dead heroes."

Her eyes widened slightly, but still she continued. "Maybe they like being heroes."

He nodded. "Maybe." Because he knew they wouldn't change a thing, having somehow managed to not only take down Voldemort, but assuring Harry's survival, too. "To be honest, to me they've always been heroes. There was no need to die, only to prove a point."

Shuffling closer, she asked with curiosity in her tone, "What happened?"

"It's not a good story to tell."

She waved his argument away. "Dad always tells stories with lots of bad things happening."

"Those are fairy tales. They always have a happy end."

She pondered that, with a serious expression on her young face. "But everyone _is_ happy about this ending."

Remus flinched, but before she could say anything else, he looked up and stopped her with the sheer intensity of his gaze. After what seemed like an eternity, he nodded. "Okay then, Dora," she didn't protest at the name, so he took it as a good sign. "You get your story. Sit down."

The girl didn't hesitate and chose the seat right next to him, watching him expectantly. He took another couple of moments, taking in the graveyard, eyes lingering on two particular names on mortal grey.

"Not so long ago," he finally started, voice hoarse, "In a kingdom not so far away, lived a brave prince in a big, old castle, spending his days with mindless adventures alongside his friends and a beautiful princess he had come to love. His parents ruled the kingdom with a gentle hand and everyone who set eyes upon Prince James knew that, one day, in the far away future, he would be a just king, too. But no one lingered on that thought, because they had peace and he was still so very young." Remus smiled at the memory of their Hogwarts days. How careless they had been, how happy, how whole.

"One day, though, there came a big, evil monster to their castle and declared a war. '_I am the most powerful being in this world, and you will fall before me like everybody else. And I will be the only king._'

"The King and Queen had promised to keep their people safe, so they looked the monster squarely in the eye and said: '_Never. We will fight you, and we will win, because light will always triumph over darkness._'

"They gathered an army and fought many a battle and although they won some of them, they were steadily pushed back. Many people lost their lives, many more their hope, but all knew they would never stop fighting.

"One day, Prince James decided that he could no longer stay in the safety of the castle. He too had a duty to protect his people and his home. His parents protested, of course, not wanting to see their only son hurt or even lose him, but they knew they could not keep him away, and they needed all the help they could get.

"So Prince James and his friends took up their weapons and joined the battles. They were young and invincible, so they pushed back against the monster and his dark forces. And so, their hopes were high.

"To spread this hope, they gave their people something to celebrate, and Prince James married the love of his life, Princess Lily. They were truly a royal couple, James with kind eyes. Lily with fiery hair. Proud and unrelenting, a picture to ignite courage in everybody's heart.

"They fought valiantly, side by side, and whenever they met the monster, they told him, '_We will fight you until the very end.'_

"The monster was furious when they continued to defy him, and it knew it had to strike them at their hearts to take them down. So it came, stomping and roaring and breathing fire, right to the castle where the King and Queen lived. It tore down their walls and shattered their swords and when it killed the King and Queen it spread fear throughout the whole kingdom.

"Prince James heard the monster's laughter from miles away, and was devastated because he had loved his parents dearly. But he took the crown with his head held high and when he raised his sword, all his friends followed him. They told the monster, '_You will never win'_ and charged anew.

"Those days were long and dark and desperate, but with King James leading them, they held the line. Then Queen Lily gave birth to their son, Prince Harry, and James was filled with new courage and fierce love.

"The monster knew it had to do something, so it started to take down King James' group of friends, one by one, and then it roared, '_Next I will take your little prince and watch you despair.'_

"King James stood tall and answered, '_I will never let you harm him.'_

"But fear was growing in his heart and he knew he had to keep his family safe. So he took his queen and his son and told only his best friend where they were going to hide.

"But he was not the only one afraid, so this friend doubted and wavered and fell, and when he went to the monster, he said, '_I will tell you where the king is, if you let me keep my life.'_

"The monster laughed and roared and celebrated his victory even while he was on the way to his bitter enemies. '_See, little king,_ it spoke when it was at their door. '_See how fragile friendship is. I will enjoy killing you. But first, your son.'_

"King James was terribly afraid, but he had lion's blood running through his veins, so he never hesitated to stand in the monster's way. '_Never,'_ he whispered and he fought bravely, but he was alone and the monster defeated him laughing. It stepped over the body and searched for its prize.

"Queen Lily kissed her son goodbye and stood before him as his shield. '_Never,'_ she declared and fell at the monster's wrath because her only weapon had been love.

"'_Now it is only us,_' the monster laughed, but when it raised his hand to struck Prince Harry, the boy looked up at it with James' face and Lily's eyes and the love of all those who had gone before him.

"The monster screamed, '_No, I cannot be defeated by you. I was to be king.'_ But it died and Harry lived. And thus is the peace we are living, built on the loving hearts of two people who would sooner die than let evil win."

After Remus had finished, his throat dry and with new tears burning in his eyes, they sat in silence for a while, Dora's wide eyes hefted onto the graves in front of them, while he himself saw the ghosts of four young boys, ready to take on the world.

"I always liked Sirius," the girl commented into the silence. If not for the sudden stab of betrayal running through him, Remus would have smiled at her deceptiveness.

"I did, too," he almost choked on the words. "But fear does strange things to men."

Sitting up, she declared, "I'm not afraid." Then she leaned in closer, whispering almost conspiratorial, "I'm going to be an Auror. And I will lock up all the bad people, so you don't have to be sad ever again."

He smiled at that, sadly but honest. It was good to see that, somehow, life went on, even if his own had come to a sudden stand-still.

"I am sure you will."

Dora nodded, then turned serious. "Thank you for the story. And don't be so sad. They loved you, too."

Her innocent serenity took away his breath. Ever since that fateful Hallow's Eve, he had been numb inside, like he was drowning and his lungs had already given up the fight. But that simple statement had opened a dam. Pain flooded his system, fury rose in his heart, loss settled into his bones.

But on the outside he remained calm as he looked at that girl who had all her fights still ahead of her.

"Yes, I-" he began, only to be interrupted by Andromeda's irritated voice. "Nymphadora." – _Don't call me that._ – "I've been looking for you everywhere. What did I tell you about running away?" She cast a worried glance towards Remus. "I hope she didn't bother you?"

He smiled reassuringly. It even felt real. "Not at all. We've been talking a bit."

"He told me a story," Dora threw in, causing her mother to sigh impatiently. "Can he come visit us?"

Andromeda looked up surprised. "It seems you're one hell of a storyteller." She waved away his sheepish look and turned serious once again. "But you can come over, of course, whenever you like. I suspect it won't be easy now with –" She trailed off, but Remus' smile was still in place.

"Thank you. Maybe I will." He planned on leaving Britain as soon as possible, but he didn't say that. "Wouldn't want to disappoint Dora here," he added jokingly, but his eyes were sincere.

"Well then," she nodded. "We'll better go." Remus knew she still didn't feel safe with her family out in the open. Even more so since that attack on the Longbottoms. "And… my condolences."

Both of them were surprised when the little girl threw herself at Remus to hug him goodbye. "Stop being so sad," she whispered into his ear. "I'll be your friend." His heart warmed at that, and the raging storm inside it calmed a bit.

They were halfway gone, when she turned around again. "And do call me Dora. I like it."

He laughed.

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Thank you for reading.

Also, if you liked this and the following chapters, I have submitted this to the Fanfiction Contest on inkitt .com. So I'd be very grateful if you would vote for me / write a review there. Thanks!  
www . inkitt stories / 33233 (As usual links don't work. There a com missing in this, as you've probably already guessed...)


	2. Almost Like Home

Since I was asked to write another chapter, here it is. And for BlueSwallow80, I'm already halfway through a chapter with a grown up Tonks for you!

Thanks to **reader **and **BlueSwallo80** for their reviews. Hope you like this one as well.

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They lived in a small, homely cottage, right in a calm muggle neighbourhood. There was a well-kept garden in the front with children's toys strewn around and a bicycle leaned against the crisp white wall.

All in all it seemed entirely unmagical from the outside. No one would have guessed that this could be home to the oldest daughter of the House of Black. The closer Remus got, though, the clearer he felt the powerful wards surrounding the whole property, thrumming with energy and no doubt alerting the inhabitants of his arrival.

Nervously clutching a piece of parchment in his scarred hands, he considered turning around again, still not sure that this was such a good idea after all.

One year had passed since everything had fallen apart. One year filled with odd jobs and lonely nights and pain refusing to disappear.

The letter had come as a surprise – and if it hadn't appeared at the evening he had lost another job, he would have probably never considered coming. As it was, though, he had needed those words of comfort, and he craved some friendly faces. And little Dora –

'_Nymphadora is missing you,_' Andromeda had written. It was so easy to reply and accept their invitation. Now, however…

He hadn't been in Britain since the funeral. Hadn't even talk to anyone who knew what had happened. This meeting might just be too much, especially with Andromeda looking so much like her cousin.

But before he could decide whether to stay or to leave, the door opened and it was too late for second thoughts.

"Ted," he greeted cordially, taking care not to betray his inner turmoil.

"Remus." They shook hands, then the older man smiled mischievously. "Andy sent me to bring you in. You looked like you were going to run away." Chuckling at Remus' sheepish look, he added, "Dora would have never forgiven me."

Together they entered and Ted led them into a spacious kitchen where Andromeda was busy making tea.

"Remus," she called out. "How good of you to join us."

She smiled and he felt some of the tension leave his body. They had never had a close relationship other than the occasional meeting with Sirius and through Order business, but her demeanor was genuine and there was no pity in her eyes, so he thought his worries might have been for naught. She motioned him to sit, before calling out to her daughter.

It didn't take more than a couple heartbeats before loud trampling could be heard and a small bundle threw herself into his arms.

"Remus. You're here," the girl cried out in obvious joy. "I've been waiting for ages."

A smile crept onto the young man's face, wide and honest, causing several years of age to drop off him.

"I've missed you, too, Dora." She looked up happily at that, glancing at him almost conspiratorial through thick black hair adorned with a couple pink streaks.

"You don't look so sad anymore. That's good," she stated contently. The a grin split her small face. "Are you going to tell me another story?"

"Nymphadora," her mother chastised, but Remus waved it away, indicating he didn't mind.

"Gladly." She beamed at him, grabbed his hand and started to drag him up, when Ted stopped her.

"Now, Dora, we invited Remus for dinner. You might get your story afterwards."

The girl pouted but sat down, right next to her friend. "I'm not hungry," she murmured, making amused looks appear on her parents' faces.

"But Remus is," Andromeda stated, her voice leaving no room for further discussion.

After winking at his hosts, Remus leaned towards Dora and whispered, "I'll hurry."

Dinner was delicious. While Andromeda, due to being a Black, never learned how to cook, and still hadn't developed any talent for it, Ted loved spending time in their kitchen and took over the responsibility of feeding the family without complaint. Remus, who had tasted Sirius abysmal tries, was very glad for that.

He enjoyed the rich food and the chance to eat until he was full – he had given up the hope of ever getting used to all the meals he missed due to his insufficient and irregular income.

It almost felt like coming home, being welcomed in this house, sharing smiles with people of his past. He even found comfort in Andromeda's grey eyes, despite them being so similar to Sirius'. They reminded him of _before_, of the golden times. It made him forget – if only for a moment – that he was the only one left.

Remus had barely time to clear his plate before Dora jumped up and grabbed his hand again. Her mother opened her mouth as if to protest, but he smiled at her and shook his head.

Dora's room was all in blue, toy dragons lay strewn around and the only thing not drowning in the overall chaos was her bed – probably a courtesy from her mother. The girl hurried towards it, more stumbling and hitting against furniture than actual walking, but she didn't seem to notice. Instead, she threw herself onto the dark blue duvet, awaiting him with impatient excitement.

Looking around, Remus located a small chair in corner and moved to get it, but was interrupted.

"No, silly," she grinned cheekily. "You have to sit here on the bed."

Shrugging, he complied, positioning himself at the foot, with his back leaning against the wall, so she would have enough room to lie down.

"How have you been?" It was such a grown up question, that he automatically began to work through his standard answer, but something in her eyes startled him. They bore a sincere, caring expression.

'_I'll be your friend._' She had said a year ago, and it seemed she had not forgotten it, despite all the time that had passed, despite him being away.

"I've been waiting for a letter from you," she added, as if she had read his mind. "Mum said I shouldn't bother you. That you'd come when you're ready."

"I don't think I will ever be ready," he confessed, not knowing what had compelled him to say that, to be so honest with her. But she simply nodded, as if she understood completely. "I thought it would get easier. Everyone else is doing just fine. And I –"

"But you are here."

He nodded. "A friend asked me to come." Her smile was the most beautiful thing Remus had ever seen. It made warmth blossom in his chest, flowing all the way into his fingertips. _Better even than chocolate,_ he decided.

"Now about that story –"

"You don't have to," her young face had turned serious again.

"But wasn't that why you invited me?" dramatically clutching a hand to his chest, he added in a mock-hurt tone, "I travelled through the whole wide world, facing dangers and discomforts with no regard to my personal well-being because my Lady called for me, and now I am dismissed in such a heartless manner. Oh, cruel life."

Barely able to keep a straight face, she replied pompously, "I did not want to offend you, kind sir. I just thought you might be too tired after your strenuous journey." At his pained face she finally erupted into laughter, and he did not manage to keep up the act for much longer either before following suit.

After they had calmed down, she tried it again, "I mean it. I don't mind if you don't want to."

Remus shook his head gently. "I do want to. With you, it is safe to remember." Somehow, he knew that was true.

He waited until she had settled comfortably, and her eager face almost set him off laughing again, but then he smiled and began.

"Once upon a time, in a deep forest far away, lived a very peculiar group of friends. First there was Prongs, a royal stag. He was brave and smart, and no adventure was too dangerous for him.

"Second there was Padfoot, a big, black dog, rumored to look like a Grim. But he enjoyed life too much to be a sign of death, so you found him always laughing. And he was loyal to a fault." Until he wasn't, but this really wasn't a time for that.

"Third, there was Moony, a wolf who was intelligent and had a gentle heart. He had spent most of his life alone, so he valued his friends over everything else.

"And lastly, there was Wormtail, a rat. And though he was the smallest of the four, he was just as big a part of their group as everyone else. He was cunning and funny, and he always was a good listener.

"They were well-loved by most other animals in the forest, but one doe in particular was very dear to Prongs, and in extension to the others. It would come a day, when the two of them would marry, so her safety was of great concern to the friends.

"One day, there were rumors of a very poisonous snake roaming their home, that sought to be King over all the others, and he was seen talking to Prongs' love. So of course, our four friends had to investigate –"

When the story was finished, Remus left Dora upstairs to get ready for bed and rejoined her parents, who were sitting in the living room in front of a merrily burning fire. Ted nursed a drink, offering one to their guest which Remus accepted gladly.

Putting her book down, Andromeda inclined her head. "Is the little monster asleep?"

Remus chuckled. "Not yet. But she's on her way there."

"I can't remember the last time she went to bed willingly," there was a grin on Ted's face, but with his next words he turned serious. "You should come more often." Before there was any time for Remus to answer, he continued hastily. "The offer stands. Just think about it. Running away forever is no solution."

"I'm not running away," when the words come out sharper than intended, Remus looked sheepishly down at his hands.

In an attempt to ease the tension around them, Andromeda asked, "Where do you live now?"

"France," he offered, squirming nervously, which caused both of his hosts to raise their eyebrows.

"That doesn't sound too convinced."

His cheeks turning a faint red, Remus gave in. "I had a small flat in Lyon. But – I've lost my job and, well, I couldn't afford it anymore."

Ted leaned forward, and refilled his guest's glass with amber liquid. "And now?"

Remus shrugged uncomfortably. "I stay here or there. It's okay, really," he added when he saw the other man frown and open his mouth to say something.

"It is sad," Andromeda spoke up pensively. "To see how prejudiced people are. You've got excellent NEWTs, if I remember correctly, and still, no one bothers to look behind those scars."

Her words left Remus shell-shocked and uncertain and wary. Did they know? Then why was he here? His rising panic must have shown on his face, because Andromeda lay her hand on his arm and smiled softly.

"Of course we know. There was only a bit of logic needed to figure it out." Then she chuckled. "Also Sirius was never good at appearing inconspicuous when he was up to something." At his sharp look she shook her head reassuringly. "Don't worry, he never told. I just know –" Tension spiked up, causing her to correct herself. "Knew him."

Silence settled around them, in which Remus tried to battle down the shame burning in his every fiber. "Then why did you invite me? Why did you leave me alone with Dora? Why –"

"Because," Ted interrupted in a voice that left no room for discussion. "We trust you. Because you fought beside us these past years, no matter most of the people you were protecting wouldn't even look at you if they knew. Because we don't care about such stupid prejudices."

Andromeda took over. "You're a good man. Don't ever doubt that."

Remus sat with his eyes closed, caught between elation and disbelief, until he heard steps coming closer which interrupted his musings.

Dora barked into the living room, clad in her pajamas, with tooth paste still sticking to one side of her mouth. She was smiling from ear to ear and engulfed Remus into another hug. The young man hesitated to put his arms around the girl, watching her parents carefully for any sign of discomfort, anything that would betray their earlier words as lies. But they only smiled, looking utterly comfortable with a werewolf hugging their only child. Taking that as an encouragement, he held her close.

"Good night, Dora," he said. "Dream well."

She nodded. "Thank you for the story." Then she was off, hugging her parents good night as well. At the door she turned again, her face serious. "Don't forget to write this time."

"I won't," but she was already gone, trusting him to do so without waiting for his answer. Smiling, he settled back into his chair, noticing that all tension had left his body.

"Thank you," he spoke softly, meaning much more than he could ever put into words. He knew he would have to leave soon, to return to France and his futile search for a permanent job that paid enough to keep him alive.

But he didn't want to think about that. Right now, right here, he felt almost at home.

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Thank you for reading. Reviews make me happy!


	3. The Best Presents Are Unexpected

My dear readers, here I am again. Inspiration has struck and I've been writing a couple new chapters for this, fitting in between those already uploaded. This, for example, is set between Chapters two and three - where I will move it later. Just wanted to give those who might get an alert that a chapter has been added a chance to find it.

Oh, and I have submitted this to www. inkitt. com 's fanfiction contest. So, if any of you think this is any good, I'd be very grateful if you would vote for me there: www. inkitt stories/ 33233 (As usual links don't work. There a com missing in this, as you've probably already guessed...)

Well then, to the chapter. (And I've got some more coming!)

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The Best Presents Come Unexpected

Seven candles stood proudly straight, gracing the sugary monstrosity that was Dora's birthday cake. Andromeda had frowned when Ted had first explained the muggle custom to wish for something while blowing out the candles. Neither fate nor magic worked that way, both needed intention and a strong will, but seeing her daughter now, staring intently into the flickering flames, the young face scrunched up in utter concentration, reconciled her with what she felt was some barbarian rite.

A sideward glance directed at her husband revealed that he was apparently just as excited as their child, probably remembering some naïve wish he had had, a lifetime ago, when magic had truly been wishful thinking to him.

Finally, after what seemed like enough time to plan up her entire future and fill it with childish hopes that would never happen, Dora opened her eyes again and leaned forward. Taking a very deep breath, she blew out every single candle with utmost care. That had to be one hell of a wish.

"Can I open my presents now?" she then asked impatiently, as if it had not been her spending endless minutes pondering over the candles.

"After breakfast, dear," Andromeda said, only just managing to keep herself from sighing as twin disappointed expressions appeared on her daughter and husband's faces. That had been another tradition Ted had brought into their family, presents only after the cake, and as no one wanted to wait until the afternoon, there had to be cake for breakfast. Dora did not protest that, of course. And Andromeda herself had never had a chance against those two, no matter what proper decorum dictated her to do. It was, maybe, a good thing that no one of her family deemed them worthy enough to keep in contact. This complete corruption of proper pureblood etiquette would only lead to constant arguments.

"But I'm not hungry," Dora whined, snapping Andromeda out of her quite cynic musings. Arguments, what a joke. Any visit of a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black here would only end in blood and tears.

"Well, I can understand that," Andromeda smiled indulgently, almost enjoying to crush her daughter's hopes with her next words. "So much sugar in the morning really is not good for you. You can have some fruits and we'll keep the cake and presents for later, when you're grandparents are here."

That earned her a truly contemptuous snort, before Dora simply turned her back to her and grinned widely at her father. "Dad," she exclaimed pompously. "Cut the cake. I want the biggest piece."

Chuckling silently, Andromeda leaned back in her chair, burying her nose in a freshly brewed cup of tea, content with just watching her family, both of them children in their own way. Not that she would have them any other way.

"You, too, darling?" Ted asked her, holding out a plate to her that held a considerably smaller piece than Dora's.

Declining politely, she assembled a much more healthy breakfast for herself, lots of vitamins and other 'revolting stuff'. Well, the girl had to take the energy for all her shenanigans from somewhere.

She had not even finished half an apple, when Dora, bits of cake adorning great parts of her face, looked up at her hopefully. "Presents?," she asked, fidgeting impatiently on her chair.

Stretching out an arm to clean up her squirming daughter, naturally ignoring all her loud protests, Andromeda waited a couple heartbeats, just long enough to raise doubts.

"Okay," it was a long, suffering sound, but neither Dora not Ted waited to hear it finished, jumping up excitedly and racing over to the living room, where a small mountain of packages awaited the slaughter they would experience from the child's hands.

Now that she was all alone in the kitchen, Andromeda did allow herself to sigh, but lay her food aside, following them at a much more dignified pace. As it was, she had not missed anything. Ted sat on the sofa, watching Dora take up every package, reading the card rather than just opening it.

Worry lines appeared on the young face as she got to the last present and had, apparently, not found what she was looking for.

"Where is it?", she turned around to her parents, her whole demeanour heart-broken.

"Where is what?" Ted asked carefully, knowing the answer full well. But, sometimes, knowing the end of a game, did not negate the fun of actually playing it.

"Where is _his_ present?" Dora asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"Who are you speaking of, darling?" Andromeda would not let herself be excluded from _all_ the fun this day.

"Mum," Dora cried out indignantly. "Dad."

Ted, never good enough to hide the laughter in his eyes, though their daughter was thankfully still too young to catch them at all their lies, leaned towards his wife. "Did you forget to get old Mr. Merrywart's present? I bet he's been hiding these crackers away for ages."

Mr. Merrywart was their neighbour. Their very old neighbour. Who was known for doing all kinds of things truly old people like to do. Like accidentally giving the neighbours' children dog biscuits meant for his equally old dog. But the box actually had resembled the one his wife used to store her famous self-baked cookies in. So it was a very understandable mistake. Ted had, also understandably, hardly managed to not fall to the floor so hard had he been laughing, when Dora had actually taken a bite, happily expecting the usually delicious cookies. Her face had been hilarious.

"You're right," Andromeda continued the act, standing up as if searching for something. "I'm sure I have them somewhere here."

"Mum," Dora went so far as to stomp with her foot, looking half-pleadingly, half ready to cry. "I mean Remus' present." Then her face turned worried. "You don't think he forgot, did he?"

Barely containing a new bout of laughter, Ted opened his arms for their daughter, who, instead of rushing into them, stopped in front of him. "Dad? He wouldn't, right?"

"No, dear," Ted smiled, securing an escaped curl behind her ear. Feeling slightly guilty as he noticed that her hair had gone the mousy brown typical for when she was in emotional distress. If it only were not so entertaining to taunt her... "He wouldn't."

"But where is it, then?" Dora asked petulantly, not yet reassured.

"Maybe," Andromeda cut in, still a bit miffed about the butchering of _her_ birthday traditions. "He, like any sane person, does not open his presents before the afternoon tea. So, it might just not be here, yet."

"As if," Ted and Dora said simultaneously, sharing a conspiratorial smile.

"In fact," Dora continued to lecture her mother. "He told me about his birthdays. He never waited, either." Then she added a bit more sheepishly. "And Padfoot and Prongs never let him, later."

A shadow flickered over Andromeda's face, as it always did when someone mentioned her wayward cousin, and only years worth of controlling her emotions stopped her from completely losing her smile. Ted, who noticed it nonetheless, touched her arm briefly before addressing Dora again.

"Better not remind him of that," he said, only to be interrupted by an indignant frown.

"Dad," she chastised. "I wouldn't do that."

And she truly would not. For some inexplicable reason, their loud and rambunctious daughter, who never managed to _not_ put her foot into her mouth, never did so with Remus. She never talked about the things declared unspeakable, never overstepped the boundaries he had drawn so tightly around him. Maybe, Andromeda mused, there was still hope for her.

"So," she returned to the starting point of their discussion. "Where is it?"

"Maybe you should start with your other presents first, until it gets here?", Ted offered, although knowing it would not meet her approval, sharing a long-suffering look with his wife.

"No," Dora pouted, making her look adorably, though neither of the adults would say that out loud and expect to live. "I want it _now_."

"I am truly sorry, then," a new voice interrupted from the door, "To have kept the lady waiting."

Silence reigned for a couple moments, in which Dora whirled around and mustered the young man occupying their doorway. Then she shrieked and blurred into motion, hurling herself into Remus' arms, never once thinking he would not catch her.

"It worked, it worked, it worked," she chanted, while clinging desperately to her friend, seemingly trying to hug the life out of him. Remus held onto her no less happy, feeling like a whole wagonload of tension was falling off his shoulders.

"What worked," he asked hoarsely, when they finally separated, every time overwhelmed anew by the sheer joy the girl showed when they met. He then managed to greet Andromeda and Ted, too, albeit somewhat awkwardly, as Dora still refused to let go of him completely.

"The candles," Dora explained. "On the cake. Dad said to wish for something while blowing them out, and I wished for you to be here, and now you're here, so it worked."

Interrupting her happy rambling, she turned briefly to her father. "Dad, you're the best." Then, though, she scrunched up her face, looking back towards Remus. "Well, the second best."

"Thanks, mate," Ted muttered, mock-scowling, earning himself a sheepish look. "What a fool I was, thinking I'd have her all for myself for at least a couple more years."

"Don't be silly, Dad," Dora said in a surprisingly good imitation of her mother. "You've still got half of me."

"And what do I have?" Andromeda asked dryly, motioning their guest to sit, as well as that was possible with an overexcited child attached to his hip.

"You can share with Dad," her daughter explained matter-of-factly, not caring in the least for the dumbstruck expressions on the grown ups' faces. "Why didn't you say anything," she then demanded to know.

Remus chuckled, "I thought you might like the surprise."

"Of course I do." Then something crossed her face that looked suspiciously like guilt. "But how?"

"You know," he started, whispering conspiratorial, "There's that think called apparition, where you turn on the spot and, tadaa, you're somewhere else."

"Prat," Dora called laughing, ignoring her mother's disapproving glare. "I mean with your work."

Shrugging, he said simply, "There's nowhere I'd rather be today." It would do no good to tell her that his rather spontaneous decision to come to England for her birthday had probably cost him another job. But, he mused, it would not have taken much longer even if he had not scheduled this impromptu leave. That was just how things were. And it was definitely better to lose a job because of something pleasant like meeting his kind of family, than his quickly accumulating sick days.

That prompted her to snuggle back into his arms, murmuring a heartfelt 'Thank you' into his chest, that left him with a smile so wide that it threatened to split his face in half. Andromeda and Ted watched them with indulgent impressions.

"Maybe it's time to give you that present now, that was the reason for your little drama this morning." Dora sat up immediately, grinning up at him like he had hung the moon in the sky. Taking a carefully wrapped package out of his pocket, he shrugged sheepishly. "I'm afraid it's not much –"

She took it from him almost reverently, her earnest eyes never leaving his. "That doesn't matter. I'll love it whatever it is. Also," she added casually, "I've already got my best present. You're here."

When Remus' cheeks actually turned a faint pink, Ted chuckled before sighing dramatically at his wife. "Did you hear that?" he asked, clutching his heart as if in pain. "We went to so much trouble locating the perfect present for that ungrateful little brat, and all it took to make her happy was inviting Remus over."

Andromeda nodded gravely. "I see how it is. We're just not good enough anymore."

Dora agreed with that, nodding nonchalantly at her parents. And because there was always a little devil riding her shoulder, she patted her father's arm and added cheekily, "But don't worry, maybe your present will be third-best. After Remus', of course."

Not able to suppress it, Remus erupted into laughter, while the other two adults sat shell-shocked for a couple moments. After sharing a look, though, a wicked smile appeared on Ted's face, just as Andromeda adopted her most regal position, motioning toward their daughter with a royal frown.

"That, my dear, just asks for a punishment."

"Oh yes," Ted agreed. And then he was moving, hurling himself forward, his hands automatically finding the spots where Dora was the most ticklish. He worked relentlessly, drawing out the most elaborate shrieks from the seven year old, who was trying to hide behind Remus, who was holding his own sides, still not able to stop laughing, only to be drawn right into their little tickling war.

Later he would think, that this was worth losing all the jobs in the world. Simply being here, able to laugh freely with people who, for some indiscernible reason, kept inviting him into their home and hearts. And Dora, of course, who, with a simple look, could free his heart from all the darkness gathering there whenever he was alone. That was it, he guessed. Here, he just was _not alone_.

* * *

Despite Dora's loud protests, Andromeda made her go upstairs and change into appropriately nice clothes, half an hour before Ted's parents were due to arrive. That not only displeased the girl because she had to leave Remus' side, which she had not done since the moment he stepped into their living room, but also because, in her opinion, a better translation for 'appropriate' was 'horrible'. After making Remus promise that he would not laugh at whatever 'dreadfully frilly dress' her mother had chosen for her, she dashed up to her room, giving the adults for the first time this day room to breathe.

"Thank you for having me over," Remus said earnestly, thinking that mere words were really not enough to explain that warmth spreading all through his chest.

"Well," Andromeda countered dryly. "Thank _you_ for making the little monster smile."

"And shut her up about how we 'absolutely have to invite Remus again, because we haven't seen him in forever'," Ted added in an astute imitation of his daughter's most whining voice.

"I mean it," Remus tried again, maybe a little desperately.

Ted's face grew serious. "We mean it, too." He said, almost solemnly. Then he was back to his usual joking self. "Though I'm not sure I can forgive you for only scoring third-best present because of your sudden appearance. I fought long and hard with Andromeda to get Dora that broom. And now she barely even spared it a glance."

Andromeda huffed. "I told you –"

"Oh, no," her husband interrupted. "You hoped she wouldn't want it because she suddenly discovered her own 'girlyness' or some such nonsense. But I tell you, she'll love it." Shrugging he glanced at their guest. "That is, when her best present is gone again. She can actually take her second-best flying with her."

Apart from a story book, to get her through the evenings when he could not be there himself to tell her some, Remus had gotten her a small badger figurine, thus declaring her his most loyal friend. Naturally, she had fallen in love with it at once, and hugged it close, despite her mother's half-hearted protests at such a 'Hufflepuff present' when her daughter would clearly not get into _that_ house.

Andromeda harrumphed. "It will be your fault when she breaks her neck." Through their chuckles, Remus could hear her murmur something that sounded suspiciously like, 'Not that she would actually need a broom for that,' which only managed to set him off laughing loudly again.

When they had calmed down, Remus suddenly remembered his manners and, redness creeping into his cheeks, asked, "Maybe I should get on my way. Your parents will be here soon." He had, after all, only meant to visit in the morning, not stay the whole day.

But both of his hosts shushed him almost instantly. "Stay," Ted said easily. "You're practically family anyway."

"And Dora would never speak with us again, if we'd send you away early," Andromeda added dryly.

"But I don't want to be a –" Twin glares silenced him. It was not hard to admit to himself how happy he was for not having to leave just then, for being able to enjoy the simple warmth of belonging somewhere.

"Mum," Dora whined from the doorway, "It's – _pink_." Her pitched voice easily showed that she would have chosen some very different words, if her mother had not threatened to actually wash her mouth with soap if she ever used them in her hearing again. So, to not prompt her into a tirade about the absolute horridness of her dress, Remus schooled his face into a neutral expression before he turned towards her – only to have his self-restraint severely tested.

The dress certainly was pink. It was also frilly. And – Andromeda could not have chosen a more un-Dora-like dress. Swallowing the probably hysterical laughter rising in his throat, Remus regarded her carefully. "It is – pink," he finally agreed, earning himself a pleading glance from Dora, and a threatening one from her mother.

Thankfully the doorbell saved him from having to think up a diplomatic answer to appease both females, while Ted tried – and failed – to hide his snicker behind his hand. Now, though, they all sprung into action. Ted took Dora's hand and made for the door to greet his parents, while Andromeda left for the kitchen to bring in the tea. Suddenly feeling awkward, as he usually was when meeting new people, especially ones he wanted to have a good impression of him, he followed her, hoping to make himself useful.

Andromeda, of course, instantly saw through his motives. Clicking her tongue, she pressed a tablet into his hands. "They'll like you," she said, entirely too casual. "No matter what. Dora adores you, that will be enough."

With that, she was gone, leaving him with no one to hide his burning cheeks from. He really had to get that under control. After all the teasing the Marauders had gotten up to, he had thought he did not blush so easily anymore. But, as it was, he had thought very wrong. It only took new people to do the teasing.

Straightening his shoulders, and chastising himself for it in the same moment, he walked back to the living room, plastering a smile on his face that only turned real when his gaze fell on Dora, who apparently waited for him impatiently.

"And that," she announced, before he had any chance to say something himself, "Is Remus, my very best friend." Clambering over to him, she re-attached herself to his side, beaming like the happiest person on earth.

Just as Andromeda had predicted, he did not have to do anything. Dora's grandparents watched the ease with which she interacted with him. And when they smiled at him, it was warm, honest.

It was the easiest thing in the world to smile back.

* * *

Thank you for reading :)


	4. Letters Home

So, yeah, I couldn't sleep last night. Instead I wrote and, somehow, Dora turned out to be avoiding adulthood for another chapter. You get a load of fluff instead.

And I'm pretty sure, this will be the last child-Dora chapter. If not, blame it on my very unhealthy sleeping patterns.

Thank you to **BlueSwallow80** and **Ron's Maroon Jumper **for your reviews.

* * *

iii – Letters Home

„What if no one will like me?"

Remus looked up surprised at the sudden question, confused for a moment, because he had never heard that particular voice sound so nervous. Dora stood in the door to her home's living room where he had been reading, small and uncertain and so very unlike her usual vibrant self, that it took him a couple of heart-beats to remember that she had asked a question.

When he did, however, he almost laughed. "What?"

She gestured impatiently, looking away almost shyly. "What if –"

"No, no," he interrupted, shaking his head. "It's just – why would you think that? That's utter nonsense."

That made her eyes snap up at him in irritation. "Be serious."

Laying his book aside, Remus leaned forward. "Look at me and tell me what you see."

"My best friend," she answered promptly, causing him to smile. Even after all these years her trust would warm his heart, never knowing how he, of all people, deserved someone like her in his life.

"I mean other than that."

Sitting down across from him, she pouted. "I don't know what that has to do with anything."

He ignored her. "You see a tired old man," she slid to the edge of her seat, ready to protest or jump up and hug him and show him what nonsense _that_ was, but Remus didn't let her interrupt him. "And this tired old man was a tired and lonely boy once, who was not only very excited about going to Hogwarts, but also terribly afraid."

He smiled softly, remembering that last week before he was to board the Hogwarts Express for the first time, when it had suddenly become real. That he would leave home. That he would be alone, more alone than ever, for he would not even have his parents.

"Because, contrary to the charming and funny and loyal girl you are, he had real reasons why finding friends might prove just a tiny bit difficult."

The frown on her face was exquisite. "That's stupid. You're great and smart and –" Then it seemed to dawn on her what he meant, but the next second she eyed him almost chastising. "No one who matters cares for stupid prejudices."

'Prejudice' was her favourite word, ever since she learned what it meant. She used it often and with much fire, ranting about everyone who dared have them, especially against her personal storyteller.

"You found good friends, best friends, despite your worries."

He grinned at her, and she blushed. "Exactly. And, believe me, I fought them very hard in the beginning, and still they stayed by my side. So," cocking his head to one side, he turned serious again. "There really is no reason why you'd need to be nervous."

"But I'm –"

"Charming and funny and loyal," he repeated his earlier description. "You're also kind and strong-willed." Chuckling, he added, "And ferocious and absolutely terrifying when you're angry."

A smile crept on her lips and he counted that as a victory. "Do you really mean that, or did you say that only because you like me?"

"I like you _and_ I mean it. Also," he narrowed his eyes playfully, "do you want to imply that I would ever lie?"

Giggling freely, she answered, "Not to me."

"Right you are," he nodded. "Never to you."

Dora slumped back into her seat, relaxed again, now that her fears were dealt with. Smiling lazily she motioned at the book laying at his side. "What are you reading? Something interesting?"

He sniffed. "Nothing for little girls." Leaning forward he said pompously, "You wouldn't understand."

Crying out indignantly, she threw herself at him, trying to snatch the book out of his hands which he held right above her reach. Suddenly she grinned and changed her tactic, starting to tickle him where she knew it would hit him hardest.

"You just declared war," he stated grimly, with his eyes laughing. And the big tome lay forgotten as he tackled her and repaid her in kind.

Their happy laughs and squeals were causing quite a commotion, echoing through the small house. Ted, who had been busy with preparing dinner, came to see what they were up to, and found them lying in a breathless heap in front of the fire place, panting and holding their sides. He shook his head fondly. Andromeda and he had long ago gotten used to the sudden bursts of childishness from their favourite guest, no matter that he was closer to their age than their daughter's. He was glad for both of them, and went back to the kitchen without making his presence known. Their time together would be over soon enough. No need to interrupt their fun.

Oblivious to their secret observer, Dora giggled at Remus being out of breath. "You're getting old."

"Take that back," he answered, his tone indignant. "Or do you want to get some more?"

She eyed his hands which he had raised threateningly, and answered cheekily. "No thanks, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

He only chuckled in response, while Dora put his momentary distractedness to good use and fished for the book that had started their little all-out tickling war.

"Math?" she asked in obvious disbelief. "Really?"

"That's Arithmancy, little girl," he eyed her grinning widely, while his voice was mock-condescending. "I did tell you that you wouldn't understand."

"Oh, the shame," sighing she threw up her arms. "I called you friend. And all the while you were doing math. _Willingly_."

At her accusing tone, his eyes widened comically and he clutched his heart. "You wound me." Then he leaned in closer and whispered, "How could I ever do such an evil thing _willingly_? But-", hesitating he seemed to contemplate whether he could tell her. "There's that evil gremlin who is forcing me to. I swear."

Dora regarded him in silence, causing him to look more miserable with every passing second. Finally, she announced very matter-of-factly, "Then we will have to get rid of that gremlin." And, thinking of his current employer, 'gremlin' really seemed like an appropriate description.

Remus almost fell over in his haste to kneel in front of her. "You honour me, my Lady. Now I know that there is nothing more to fear. With such a formidable hero at my side."

The look of hero-worship on his face was too much for her to remain serious. And when she burst out laughing, he, naturally, followed.

"I don't want to go," Dora admitted quietly after they had both calmed down. Upon seeing his expression, she added hastily, "No, I want to go. I just don't want to leave you."

That made him smile. Until now it had always been him leaving, back to France or wherever he was trying to settle down, back to odd jobs and lonely flats, back to grim thoughts and painful what-ifs. Her being sad had made it, somehow, better every time. Showing that he would have something to come back to.

Now it was her going away. To her first big adventure. To make the first step into the rest of her life. And still, she was thinking about him. That would probably change when she made her first friends, but right then it was heart-warming and very welcome, because, if he was honest with himself – and he usually was – knowing that she wouldn't be here for the better part of the following years hurt. He liked Ted and Andromeda well enough, and he knew they would make sure that he would not stop coming over, but it would all be different with Dora gone.

"I want you to have the time of your life at Hogwarts. I want you to find the best friends imaginable, play pranks and maybe learn something useful when there's nothing else to do," he chuckled quietly. "But in all truth, I, too, don't want you to leave."

She smiled at him, both sad and happy. "I will write, of course."

"I never thought you wouldn't."

At that she engulfed him in a bone-breaking hug and he thought, maybe, she wouldn't forget about him after all.

* * *

Of course she did not.

She was gone two months already, but she wrote to him faithfully, at least once a week. And whole novels at that, describing in detail what she had been up to, what she had learned – most of what had nothing to do with her actual lessons – and about Charlie Weasley.

_Guess what_, she had started her third letter. _You were right (of course). I've found a friend_.

He could almost see her in front of him, jumping up and down, bursting with the need to tell him. And he was happy for her, really. That didn't change that irrational feeling of sadness settling in his bones, the disappointment of losing her so soon. His reply was nonetheless cheerful, congratulating her (_When have I ever been wrong?_) and giving practical tips for all kind of mischief that wouldn't get them into too much trouble.

He was honestly surprised when her letters did not grow shorter. And when she called Charlie her 'second-best friend' he was positively giddy, laughing about his idiotic fear of being left behind again. Hadn't it been him who told her how loyal she was?

_Hufflepuff. Whatever else. Mum was probably a bit disappointed, but surely Dad did his ridiculous victory dance and snapped her out of it. The only problem, my green hair clashes horribly with the yellow on the uniform. Red does the trick, though._

Grinning widely Remus imagined her sitting at her House Table, her young face crunched in concentration while trying to pick the perfect colour to go with her house colours while still driving her mother mad.

_Charlie mocked me about my hair. Asked if I secretly wished to be in Gryffindor with him. I turned his green in revenge. Said it would match his desire to be in Slytherin._ _By the way, do you know any secret passage into the Snake Pit? We've got an idea…_

Unfortunately he didn't. And not for lack of trying. James and Sirius had spent every single night for a fortnight trying to find possible entrances in the whole dungeon. Without success. That didn't stop them from pulling the most clever of pranks on their least favourite house in Hogwarts. Knowing the official entrance and having an invisible cloak at hand did do the trick.

Time until Christmas was flying, as Dora reminded him several times in every letter. (_You'll be there, right? Mum wrote me that she already asked you to come. No excuses!_)

He was there, of course. In fact, he awaited her at King's Cross, impatient and giddy, and he was not disappointed at all. Because as soon as Dora laid eyes on him she started running and threw herself into his arms, all red hair and shining eyes.

"Remus," she shrieked. Then she turned and greeted her parents, who were shaking their heads at her behaviour. But she did not seem to notice. Instead she babbled on excitedly. "There's so much I've got to tell you."

When she spotted a group of redheads in the crowd, she called out, "Charlie."

And there he was, grinning just as wildly as she was, and extended his hand as if he had known Remus all his life. "You must be Dora's very best friend. I'm only her second-best, as she is so fond of reminding me. She told me all about you."

"I might remove that 'best' completely if you don't stop being a brat."

He only shrugged cheekily. "You gotta love her." Then he waved at her parents and was gone again, off with his own family.

Ted shook his head at Remus. "You completely stole our show." But he smiled. "Though that was probably good. Or we might have embarrassed our dear Nymphadora in front of her friend and Christmas would have been a very sour affair."

The girl nodded emphatically at that, then grabbed Remus hand and pulled him towards the exit, trusting that her parents would follow. Not even Andromeda could find it in her to chastise her for her improper behaviour, happy to have her daughter back, to see her smiling and healthy and not at all changed. Instead she turned to her husband and repeated the Weasley boy's words, one eyebrow raised. "You gotta love her."

And they did.

* * *

Well, tell me what you think!


	5. Ridiculous

Here we go again. Dora is still not grown up, but we definitely are on the way there. Still, I'm not so sure about this one. Wrote and rewrote it the past two nights when I really should have slept - or studied. But, you know how it is.

Anyway, thanks again to **Ron's Maroon Jumper** and **BlueSwallow80** for your wonderful reviews.

* * *

Andromeda was annoyed.

By Remus, who despite trying to be quiet, couldn't quite keep himself from snickering. By Ted, who just sat there, nonchalant as always, nursing his whiskey as if nothing was amiss.

And most of all by Nymphadora, who, ever since she had attempted to start her homework, paced the room, a book in one hand while the other gesticulated wildly at times – if one wanted to find a polite word for the rather rude gestures she definitely hadn't taught her child.

Various muttered remarks disturbed the normally so peaceful silence in the Tonks' home, too loud to ignore, but not loud enough, to understand them properly. Andromeda had the fleeting thought that she probably didn't want to hear them, anyway. Even more so, because she had tried to tell herself often enough, that Nymphadora was already too old to take on better manners. Not that she had ever been willing to do that, no matter what age.

"Nympha-" she spoke up finally, when she felt the need to get up and drag her daughter to a seat by the ear. But her try to end this peacefully was interrupted rudely.

"Not yet, mum." The girl said absentmindedly, not even caring to look at her mother.

Remus snickered again, lowering his book to better observe the unfolding scene, while Ted tried to hide his grin behind his whiskey glass. Unsuccessfully.

"I don't quite get what you find so funny about this," Andromeda had intended her voice to sound more scathing, but it turned out to be half-desperate, half-pleading. And that didn't help at all with her growing irritation. Narrowing her eyes, she looked from one occupant of the room to the next. All of which were ignoring her.

Nymphadora probably hadn't even heard her, Remus had raised his book again, not willing to be on the receiving end of her disapproval, and Ted, knowing her moods better than the rest, stared into the fireplace as if contemplating whether he should get more wood or just throw himself in and be done with it.

But countless years of marriage and, before that, living in a Black household, had taught her nothing if not persistence. So her gaze never wandered from her husband's face, daring him to keep on ignoring her.

Finally he raised his eyes, not without sending a look of betrayal towards Remus – who definitely laughed again – and prepared himself for his wife's chastising.

"Do something," she ordered, one eyebrow raised, looking the very image of a pureblood lady, accustomed to getting her will.

"But Andy," he all but whined. "Leave her be. She's been home for, what? 20 hours –"

"Exactly, and she's already driving me mad."

"Could you two stop being so loud? Or go argue somewhere else. I'm trying to work here." Nymphadora glared at them for a second, then returned to her pacing and muttering, never noticing the dazzled look on her parents' faces or how Remus started shaking with silent laughter.

"Did she just?" Andromeda's voice was almost toneless, while Ted nodded slowly. Straightening her back, she sent a last glare at the other adults in the room, cowering under her glare, and opened her mind to put an end to that nonsense herself – only to be interrupted again.

"This is ridiculous," her daughter snapped and, for the first time this evening, she felt that the two of them were agreeing on something.

"Indeed," she drawled. When there was no further reaction, she turned towards their guest, who was still inappropriately amused by her annoyance. "You," she snapped, causing both men two flinch. Ted, who realized he was off the hook, grinned and leaned back into his armchair, enjoying his drink. Remus, however, eyed her warily, knowing he couldn't pull himself out of this one.

"Yes?" he asked almost timidly.

"_Do something_."

"But how? If even you tried without success -"

Andromeda didn't let herself be swayed by his innocent eyes. Instead she glared in her best imitation of her own mother. "I don't care. Get her to stop, or get her out of here. She _always _listens to you."

There was no point arguing that. Sighing quietly, Remus got up and slowly walked over to where the girl was still pacing, careful to stay out of her way.

"Dora," he asked softly, succeeding in her raising her head the tiniest bit, eyes still fixed on her book. Taking this small reaction as encouragement, he stepped closer and continued, "We need to go upstairs, or your mother will without doubt grow insane."

Throwing a lazy glance around, Dora nodded and, without interrupting her movement, turned towards the door. "Come," she ordered before she disappeared, leaving behind stunned silence.

Remus couldn't help the smug smile forming on his lips, though he did try to hide it until he was safely out of the room himself. No need to call Andromeda's anger down on him. Not before dinner, anyways.

Their muffled voices followed him upstairs, making him grin even wider.

"How _did_ he do that?"

"It's a gift, I guess. His Hogwarts years must have taught him how to deal with Black blood."

That they did, indeed.

Dora's room was still in utter chaos. And although there were now clothes and books strewn around instead of her beloved toy dragons, he did know that she still had them in a small box in her closet, always prepared to surprise – and embarrass – Charlie who still insisted on his childhood wish of working with dragons. Then again, Dora was still set on becoming an Auror, too.

When he entered, she sat on the ground in front of her bed, her face almost desperate.

"How am I ever going to make this?" she pouted.

"What exactly?" Clearing a space for himself, Remus sat down next to her.

"OWLs." Dora answered, not really helpful.

"Last time I checked, you were pretty near top of your class," he trailed of when he saw her frown. "What changed?"

"Snape did," somehow he couldn't imagine that happening. Because, really, could he get worse?

Remus had been very surprised when he found out, that Snape had returned to Hogwarts to teach Potions. Even when ignoring their ongoing rivalry – if that was the right name for it – and the resulting unpopularity of the Slytherin, he never seemed like someone to willingly spend his days with other people or, worse, children. Snape was brilliant at Potions, but teaching was another matter altogether.

Before he could inquire further, however, Dora continued, "And Trenton."

"The new Defence teacher?"

"Yes, and he's a real bastard," for a moment she seemed to reconsider that, then shook her head. "No. I mean, he is, but he's real good. It's just that the past two teachers were rubbish, and now he expects us to just be able to do all the stuff anyway. And he just teaches what he thinks important and made up his own curriculum. He wants us to cast _nonverbally_."

The way she was throwing her arms up in frustration, she seemed so much like Peter had so often when he complained about all the work they had to do, that Remus couldn't help but laugh out loud. Which brought Dora's wrath down on him.

"Do you think this is funny?", she asked, eyes wide and cheeks coloured red. He tried to stop laughing. Really.

She glared at him. A minute, maybe two, but when he didn't seem to stop anytime soon, her face grew softer.

"So, this is first year all over again?" Remus looked at her curiously. "I worry too much, and you tell me I'm going to make it anyway?"

Well, that wasn't the reason for his undue amusement, but why point that out, when she seemed to get some confidence from it. "Exactly."

"But-", she pointed at the book and he took it from her, not even glancing at what made her become so desperate.

"You told me almost ten years ago that you wanted to become an Auror." She nodded. "And since then, you've never changed your mind. Not once. Not even when Charlie can't stop going on about how _wicked_ dragons are."

That made her grin, because her friend really had tried to wake her interest in them, and even asked her constantly to accompany him to a dragon shelter in Romania during the summer holidays. Which she probably would do, no matter what she wanted to do with her life.

"You're not about to give up on that, because some teacher, and a competent one at that, actually wants you to do something to earn your goal, are you?"

Dora opened her mouth, but Remus didn't wait to hear whether it was to protest or agree. "Auror training will be hard. Don't get me wrong," he said smiling, "I know you will make it. Not only because you are talented and hellishly stubborn, but also because you promised me once you'd make it and take care of all the bad guys out there. And what am I to do without your protection?"

His voice was light, playful even, and her face brightened, but it almost hurt him to see that. Of course, he wanted her to be happy and fulfil her wishes. Auror training would even make sure, that she would be able to protect herself from most ordinary dangers. But the catch was, as an Auror she wouldn't only face ordinary things. She'd be in the front lines no matter what happened. During the last war, the Aurors had died by the dozens.

Dumbledore had been cryptic about Voldemort's downfall. What if he was not gone? What if there would come someone else, equally as dark and cruel? How could he ever stand by, knowing that she would be out there, fighting something he, in his own time, hadn't been able to defeat?

"You're right," she exclaimed and he couldn't even find it in himself to answer with his customary '_I always am._' That didn't went unnoticed, and she turned serious again. "What?"

"Do your parents know about your plans?", that was not what bothered him, but he would not dampen her mood by admitting his fears. There was no way she would stay a child for all eternity to be kept safe at home. Knowing her, it was obvious that she would fight for the light side when the time came, Auror or not.

She shrugged casually, which told him everything. "I've been talking about is since before Hogwarts."

"So they don't know that you're still serious about it?" Dora avoided his eyes. "You don't want to tell them." And he wasn't surprised about that at all.

"You know Mum." That he did. She would throw a tantrum – in a most lady like way, of course, but the end effect would be the same.

"Ted will understand," Remus offered quietly.

"Will he?" Uncertainty shone in her eyes.

"Well, he won't like it, and he'll try to dissuade you from it. You _are_ his little girl," he smiled when Dora groaned in frustration. "But eventually he will understand, and he will support you every step of the way."

For a moment, she observed him closely, then she asked in a small voice, "And you?"

Remus sighed. Of course, she would ask that. "I told you about the war. How horrible it was. How desperate _we_ were at times. I have never lied to you, so," laying a hand on her shoulder, he looked her right into the eyes, willing her to feel rather than hear what he meant. "I don't like the thought of you fighting and being in danger. I will fear for you on every mission they will give you. I guess I won't even be able to sleep until I know you've come home safely.

"But," and the small flicker of her eyes told him that she was relieved there _was_ a 'but', no matter how much she knew that he believed in her. "I know that you are good. I know that you want this," he shrugged. "I'll be beside you no matter what."

Remus guessed his speech had sounded a bit cheesy, but it was the truth, and Dora didn't seem to care anyway, because she threw herself into his arms and he held her close.

"Thank you," she breathed.

"Always."

When they parted, Remus gestured towards the book that had started this whole scene. "What do you think if the two of us, and Charlie, if he wants to, make a little trip into the Forbidden Forest tomorrow afternoon."

Dora stared at him as if he had gone mad, causing him to laugh. "What? Do you want to just abandon us out there, so we have no other choice but learn how to defend ourselves? And fast at that?"

"While that idea has merit, too," he grinned cheekily, dodging her pitiful attempt to hit him. "And I'm sure your mother would be all for it, after you have driven her all but insane earlier, I thought more about getting into Hogwarts wards, where you will be allowed to do magic. So we'll be able to improvise a little lesson in Defence. In which," he added slightly pompous, "I happen to be quite good at."

Dora squealed and hugged him again, before hurrying to her feet and looking for parchment and quill. "I've got to write to Charlie," she said excitedly.

And when she had done just that, she sprinted to the door, turning again to grin at him widely and calling out a heartfelt 'Thank you', and then she was gone. Off to find their family owl and tell her parents the good news that she would not only _not_ annoy them the next day, but also further her education.

Andromeda would be thrilled.

* * *

So, I've already started the next chapter, though I'll doubt it will up before the next weekend, cause I've got an exam on thursday (which I really be studying for right now).

Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think, please.


	6. Loyalty

Hah, I managed to pass my exam AND write a new chapter (and started the next one). I'm kind of proud of myself ;-)  
Anyway, here it is. Hope you enjoy it!

And, of course, a big thank you to **BlueSwallow80** for your review!

* * *

„Where is he?" Dora burst through the door to his living quarters without bothering to knock. Her hair was pure black for once and her Auror uniform was wrinkled as if she had thrown it on in a hurry. Which she probably had before storming to Hogwarts at three in the morning

Remus looked up at her heavily breathing form, at a loss for words. He had not even tried to go to bed, even though he had not slept in two days. His mind was in utter chaos, tired from the full moon that had just passed, and even more so from the all but impossible things that had taken course beneath it.

"Where. Is. He," she asked again, pressing the words out between clenched teeth. He did not know whether she was upset or worried or – something else.

"Who?" he finally questioned tonelessly, not even trying to act innocent. It was more like he did not know the answer himself. Who was that man, indeed, who had escaped from Hogwarts and the dementor's Kiss last night?

Dora deflated at his tired demeanour, and let herself fall into a chair next to him. "So he's not a traitor after all?"

At his asking glance, she elaborated. "I read the report back in the Auror office. Someone told that Harry insists that Sirius is innocent."

When she got only a noncommittal shrug in response, she asked impatiently, "And? Is he?"

"I don't know," there was a distinct kind of helplessness in Remus' voice. "Yes. Maybe." Their eyes met, and his were so desperate, they made her flinch as if burned. "I want him to be. But then – He was twelve years in Azkaban. I let him rot there," Panic crept into his words. "I hated him."

"You didn't," Dora interrupted him almost softly, laying a hand on his forearm. Ignoring his shocked 'What?', she continued. "You never hated him. You hated what he did and what he had become, but never what he was before. You couldn't have."

They stayed silent for a moment, Remus avoiding her gaze, staring out the window as if the night sky held all the answers he was searching for. Finally, he nodded.

"Because that would have meant that all the years before, all my life really, was a lie. Because then we never could have been the brothers we claimed to be." It was a painful confession.

Dora cocked her head, "What happened?"

Remus took his time. "Peter is alive," he then said and fell silent again as if that explained everything.

Somehow it did. Then again, it brought up a hundred, a thousand more questions. None of which they could answer – or even wanted to, in some cases.

"So it was him," it was not a question, still her voice was laced with wonder and something akin to disgust. "_So he took his queen and his son and told only his best friend where they were going to hide. But he was not the only one afraid, so this friend doubted and wavered and fell._"

Remus looked up in surprise, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You still remember that?"

"Of course. It was the first story you ever told me. When we promised we'd stay friends."

That made him wince. He knew what happened to promises such like this. They would be torn apart by time and fears.

"They thought it was me." A simple confession, opening up abysses and long-forgotten wounds.

"Then they were stupid," Dora bristled, her narrowed eyes making clear that she would not apologize for talking ill of his dead friends. "You're the most loyal person I've ever met."

It amazed him time and again how utterly convicted she seemed of his goodness, how highly she spoke of him. And it was funny, really, how much he depended on her approval, how much this young woman's friendship meant to him.

Before he knew what he was doing, he told her everything about that night mere hours – maybe an eternity – ago, somehow trusting that she would not turn away when she heard what he had almost done. What his carelessness could have done to Harry and his friends. Or that he had been willing to take a life so easily, no matter how serious Peter's crimes might have been.

"So he escaped," and the growl in her voice was meant for the rat, not her cousin. "It's a shame I'm still in training and cannot be assigned to the team searching for Sirius. I could help him. I hope he's smart enough to leave Britain."

"You never know with Sirius," somehow Remus found it in himself to chuckle, despite being dead tired and in emotional turmoil. "I might follow him," he then offered, not really knowing himself where that thought came from.

She was not happy about that, but not surprised either. "The school year's not yet over –"

He waved her argument away. "Snape will without doubt leak my condition to the school. I'd rather leave than be thrown out." Despite being used to losing his jobs regularly, there was bitterness in his tone. Hogwarts had been his home all those years ago. Leaving yet again, and in shame at that, was painful.

"With Peter and Sirius alive, I might have a purpose again, other than trying to earn enough to get through another month. A life on the run doesn't sound so bad when you're not alone."

Dora stayed silent at that. She knew her parents had offered him a home and money and a job more than once, but he had always been adamant on managing on his own. _I don't want charity_, he had declared with that quiet determination of his that made it so hard to argue with him.

So instead of fighting, she simply stated, "You know you are keyed into my wards. So if the two of you need a safe place to catch your breath every once in a while, you know where to find me."

Gratefulness shone in his eyes, causing her to shrug. "You are always welcome in my home," she muttered.

They lounged into a companionable silence, only interrupted by Remus' "It's pretty late. Maybe you should go to bed?" and her noncommittal humming, after which they stayed right where they were, comfortable in each other's presence.

The night was almost over anyway, and come morning they would have to fill the roles recent events had loaded onto them. Better to enjoy the peace while it lasted. Their storm was coming up fast.

Only after the sun had risen and the castle was slowly starting to wake did they get up, still tired, but more calm than before, like it was so often the case when they spent time together.

Dora opened her arms and held him close, transferring her invitation once more with something far more honest than words.

"Tell the mutt I want to meet him. I need to see for myself if he lives up to your stories."

Remus laughed. "Don't worry. He will even surpass them."

* * *

Their first meeting began rather awkward.

Despite knowing how much time had passed, Sirius somehow expected to see his baby cousin as she had been before, painfully young and throwing a temper tantrum because she did not want to wear some dress her mother had laid out for her, or fighting mock-duels with him and the boys.

Instead she was all grown up and training to be an Auror, ready to go out and leave her mark on the world, eyeing him not with hero-worship but sceptical calculation.

At the same time, Dora struggled to recognize her jovial, handsome and always careless cousin in this haggard man with a gaunt face and haunted eyes, whose mouth had not laughed in years, and whose hands could not stop fidgeting nervously.

"Sirius," she said slowly, probing how the name felt on her lips, how its bearer reacted to it.

"Tonks." The ghost of a smile flickered over both their faces.

"You remember that, huh?"

"You made sure that no one could forget," his toothy grin caused her to sigh dramatically, all the while trying to ignore how that gesture made his face look like a skull.

"I was a real terror, right?"

"My dear Dora," Remus' chuckle interrupted them from the doorway. "Don't act all innocent, you still _are_ a terror."

The young woman cried out indignantly, making the two men laugh out loud. Remus stepped fully into the room, put a tea tray onto the table, and sat down next to Dora.

"You let him call you Dora?" Sirius asked, still smiling.

"It's still Tonks to you," she replied snootily. "I dare you."

None of them would have admitted it aloud, but they were all glad that the almost choking tension, that had settled around them the moment Sirius had knocked on Dora's door, had disappeared.

And while it would still take a long time until Sirius would be able to relax again, he at least stopped looking over his should every couple of seconds as if expecting Aurors or dementors to jump up from behind to couch.

"How did Remus here convinced you that I'm innocent?" That last word seemed odd coming out of the escapee's mouth.

He had cleaned up since Azkaban and his clothes were mostly whole, but he had still that starved, half-mad look of a caged man.

As if reading her thoughts, he chuckled hoarsely. "I know I don't look the part."

Dora shrugged, trying to look casual, but it was obvious she was uncomfortable. "He believed in you," then, after glancing at her friend, she added, "Even though he had the most reasons not to. And I have come to trust him."

Sirius watched them curiously, seemingly reading them, seeing beyond what they knew themselves. Then he leaned back, apparently satisfied, and smirked. "And why is that," he asked like the cat watching the canary, getting ready for the kill.

Dora seemed oblivious to his smug demeanour, or at least she pretended to be. "We've been friends ever since –" stopping herself abruptly, she changed course, although not before the reappeared light in her cousin's eyes dimmed a bit. "He told me stories, and visited whenever he was in Britain. We exchanged letters when he was not. I –"

Smirk growing even wider, Sirius cut her rambling off. "And when are you going to tell your parents that you're in love with your childhood friend? And he with you?"

Stunned silence settled around them as Dora turned a bright shade of red and Remus did his best to murder his friend with a withering glare. But none of them, Sirius noted with growing satisfaction, denied it.

"That will really be a –"

"What do you plan on doing next?" Dora stumbled over the words, voice slightly raised to drown him out.

She threw a glance towards Remus who was sitting stiffly, but took it as a good sign that he had not moved away from her. How could that mutt possibly know?

Looking back at Sirius, she realized with a strange mixture of victory and regret, that her question had brought out the shadows in his eyes again.

"Dumbledore," he began reluctantly, his velvety voice disappearing back into whatever abyss he had found it in. "He wants me to reopen Grimmauld Place."

The darkness in his tone, as well as Remus' grim nod – which had thankfully dispersed the sudden awkwardness between them – surprised her. She knew that the ancestral London Estate of the Blacks was at Grimmauld Place and, according to her mother's stories, it was not the most cheerful of places, but this air of hostility spoke of something worse.

When it was obvious that her cousin would not continue, she turned towards Remus, waiting impatiently for an explanation.

"After our fifth year," he said slowly, giving their friend the chance to interrupt him. "Sirius was expected to do something he didn't want, so he run away and vowed never to return."

"What was it?"

A look passed between the two men. "My dear mother demanded that I remember my roots and join the Death Eaters," Sirius chuckled humourlessly. "Naturally, I refused. But she was never one to accept a 'no'. I left before she decided to use the Imperius."

With his eyes seeing long-gone, far-away things, he added absentmindedly, "She always had a hand for the Unforgivables. Bella herself could have learned something from her Cruciatus."

Dora did not know what shocked her more, that Walburga Black would use the Torture Curse on her own son – which should not surprise her, really, her family _was_ known for insanity – or how casual Sirius spoke about it.

It made her heart roar inside her chest, reminding her once again why she had been sorted into Hufflepuff. But when she saw Remus clenching his hands next to her, she pushed away the need to jump up and crash something or, even better, find someone of her blood relatives and give them a good tongue-lashing and a taste of why the other Auror trainees were afraid of her temper.

Instead she lay her own hand on his, knowing that she had always been able to calm him down and spend some comfort.

"And Dumbledore expects you to go back there, why exactly?"

"The greater good, of course," Sirius smiled darkly, with hardly concealed bitterness. "He is reinstating the Order of the Phoenix. And could there be a better symbol than having its headquarters in the home of one of our darkest families? But don't worry, I should be used to being a prisoner in hell by now."

Dora looked at him intensely. It was kind of true. He _would_ be a prisoner, but she would be damned if she let him rot there and not do something to help him heal.

"You're not alone," she said.

His gaze trailed down to where her hand was still laying on Remus'. "No," he nodded, and his smile seemed to be more honest than before. "I am not."

* * *

Thank you for reading! Reviews make me happy!


	7. Grim Old Conversations

Here I am with another chapter, this one is settled between chapters 6 and 7, after the end of forth year.

So, without further ado: Enjoy. And tell me what you think!

* * *

Grim Old Conversations

Later, he could not have said what he had expected to find, but it certainly was not this. Passing Grimmauld Place's entrance hall in a hurry, tired and quite nervous about the upcoming meeting, Remus made his way to the library, until now the only really inhabitable room in the whole house. He was supposed to meet Dora here an hour ago, to spend some time together before the scheduled Order meeting, but was delayed when Moody wanted a detailed report of some failed mission.

As it was, he hoped that the library was still whole and standing – something that was not guaranteed, with how badly tempered Sirius had been since arriving here. Remus could not really hold that against his old friend, but still feared what might happen if Dora was in a bad mood, too. Those two could tear the world asunder without ever breaking into a sweat. Black temper, the both of them.

So it was with quite a bit of apprehension that Remus opened the door – only to be met by his friends bowing over something on the table between them, seemingly carefree and – giggling.

"What –" Remus started, only to trail off again. Neither of them were prone to giggle, having inherited the typical bark-like laughter of their ancestors. And, what was even more disconcerting, Sirius had not laughed once since being locked up in his childhood home. Instead he had hidden himself away, fire whiskey constantly at his side, preferring to spend his days in the past, brooding and feeling guilty.

Dora, too, had been atypically downcast these past weeks since the Tournament had ended and the outbreak of the next war was looming on the horizon. Understandably, really, seeing as the Ministry and most of her co-workers chose to live on in ignorance, denying Voldemort's resurrection and missing all their chances to properly prepare. So Dora, as an Auror and Order member, did not only have to act all unconcerned at work, but was also running herself dry with missions and Moody's additional training.

For weeks now she had been tired and irritable, torn between seeking solace in his arms like she had done for most of her life, and standing on her own feet, insistent on doing her part. At the same time she had been adamant that Sirius should not take unnecessary risks, wishing to keep her family safe, especially as he had only just been returned to them.

Finding them in such obvious harmony was therefore quite unexpected, a nice surprise, but Remus, ever the sceptic, was looking desperately for the catch.

"What are you doing?" he tried again, his voice more sure this time, though not even the normally so daft Sirius could miss the underlying nervousness. Twin mischievous expressions met his question, which did nothing to appease his trepidation.

"Well," Sirius drawled, seemingly completely at ease within his own skin. "Nymphie and I had a very animated discussion earlier," his cousin, while glaring angrily at the horrid nickname, flinched at his description.

They had _had_ a 'discussion', and it had certainly been animated, though she was not too sure that anyone without Black blood would call it just that. In fact, they had both done their best to scream louder than the lovely Mrs. Black – who had been overjoyed at the entertainment they offered her.

Now that she was thinking about it, Dora was still angry. She knew the Black temper, knew the Black inability to remain at the sidelines, knew the gnawing pain being locked up in this of all houses. The whole aura of the house, the stuffiness, the dank and dirty rooms, the desperation still lingering in the wallpapers and furniture – she could feel it, could feel her blood sing out to it.

Maybe it was a Black thing, maybe she had entered the house expecting all of this and was therefore feeling it worse than other Order members. Maybe it was the boiling fury she always felt when thinking of her mother's former family, when remembering her _aunt_ Bellatrix and the words she had hissed when they had come across each other in Diagon Alley years ago. Dora had been very young, of course, but she still remembered that fanatical gleam in the familiar eyes, the obvious insanity.

So, yes, she could understand Sirius' unwillingness to stay in this house, knowing that his aversion must be a hundred times worse than hers, seeing as he had a childhood worth of memories playing out inside these walls. But this was not only about him. He had family and friends to think about, who cared for him, wanted him free and happy and _alive._

At least Remus had not been on time to witness their screaming because it surely would have hurt him. To her, Sirius was family, a long lost cousin come back to life. To Remus, he was more, the last tender connection to the life he had lived before her. And, because he always felt the need to play peace-keeper, Dora was certain, that _they_ would have hurt him, too, hurling words at him that might have been unintentional, but cut nonetheless.

"So, in an attempt to keep the peace," Sirius continued, oblivious to her inner musings. "We decided to get along."

"You _decided_ to get along," Remus repeated slightly dazed, though the sarcasm in his voice was almost tangible.

"Yes," Sirius agreed happily, then smirked. "We _bonded_ over the one thing we have in common."

"Apart from decades of insane ancestors and a knack for creating chaos wherever you go?"

"Exactly," Dora chirped sweetly, sharing a mischievous look with her cousin, before both of them picked something up from the table and waved with it.

"You," they chimed together, their relation obvious in the twin, slightly maniacal grins. It took a couple moments for Remus to register that the stuff they were still holding up were pictures. Pictures of their Hogwarts days.

"You were _so_ adorable," Dora gushed, expertly finding one where an eleven year old Remus was huddled into one of the armchairs in Gryffindor's Common Room, wearing a too big sweater and his face scrunched up in utter concentration as he read in a thick old tome. His hair, he saw, was cut short for once, leaving him no chance to hide his sharp cheekbones, and the last remnants of baby fat that stubbornly refused to disappear until second year, despite him being otherwise skinny to a fault, due to his condition.

"I was just telling her about the incident in second year, when James accidentally emptied that cauldron all over you." Sirius eyes were bright and the smile he wore threatening to cut his face in half as he held up another picture.

Little Remus was here covered completely in green goo, standing miserably in Myrtle's bathroom while his 'friends' could barely breathe, so hard were they laughing.

"Accidentally?" Remus asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Of course," the man-sized child insisted – and not very convincing at that. "We _never_ would have done that on purpose. Not even if the potion we wanted to brew did not turn out as it should because we did not listen to you. Which you were telling us repeatedly. But that is not at all a reason to shut you up with drenching you in said failed potion."

Looking from the glaring picture-Remus to the even more glaring real-Remus, Dora could not keep the laughter back any longer, falling backwards onto the couch and holding her sides in a comical imitation of the picture-Marauders.

"You are laughing at the wrong time, dear," Remus said in a sickly sweet tone, that was somewhat negated by the involuntary twitching of his lips. "Maybe you have forgotten that I have quite the collection of pictures of _your _childhood, additionally to the ones Andromeda sent me regularly. And we all know how much your mother loves to embarrass you."

That made her halt, her hair turning red at the tips. Eyeing him nervously, she asked. "You wouldn't, right?" But then her gaze fell back on the goo-covered Remus and another laughing fit overcame her.

"You can bet that I will," Remus regarded her almost benevolently for a moment, then turned to his friend, who watched the proceedings with a highly amused smirk. "Alas," and here he sighed dramatically, "I'm not in the mood to go back to my flat and get those pictures. So, we'll have to deal with _you_ first."

Sirius gulped audibly, knowing that particular glint in his almost-brother's amber eyes only all to well. It was the same look he wore before executing one of his more ingenious pranks against those who wronged him or his friends personally. It was the look that made Slytherins run and Wormtail hide behind his curtains. It was the look, that had always promised the most fun to James and him – when it was not directed at them.

Finally sitting down at the table with them, Remus calmly searched through the heap of pictures. "Let's see," he breathed while sorting through years of jokes and adventures. "Say, Dora, have I ever told you about the day James and Sirius tried to break into the Slytherin dormitory?"

"Noo," Sirius howled and jumped up, trying to snatch the very colourful picture out of Remus' hands. But to no avail, as Dora had already seen it, eyes growing wide as saucers, while her laughter grew even louder.

Remus nodded and, with a predatory grin, he added, "The _girl's_ dormitory?"

* * *

"Do you want to grab some dinner and come over to my flat?" Dora asked, after the Order meeting was concluded and their fellow members began making their way out of Grimmauld Place's kitchen, most wearing grim expressions or talking animatedly about recent events.

When Remus did not answer at once, she stopped her observation of the bustling activity and found him regarding her with a strange intensity.

"I don't think that is a good idea," he finally said, his tone carefully neutral which, naturally, set off alarm bells in her head.

"What do you mean with that?" Dora intoned clearly, turning around so she could give him her full attention.

"I mean that it is probably not a good idea for us to be alone right now." Remus was clearly uncomfortable with this topic. "It might give some people the wrong idea."

In a good imitation of her mother, Dora raised one eyebrow in scepticism. "We have spent time alone together since I was five years old."

Remus cringed, before nodding curtly. "Exactly."

He then avoided her gaze, busying himself with studying the scratched table in front of them. This, more than the probable meaning of his words, rendered her speechless. A small, but not insignificant part of her wanted to give in to the sudden rush of anger cursing through her, to snap at him and set him right. Another part, and that one sounded suspiciously like Remus himself, warned her to treat with caution. Lest she allowed her temper to worsen this situation.

"We never talked about it," she then said softly, no judgement evident in her tone.

Feigning ignorance, which, Dora decided, did not suit him at all, Remus cocked his head to the side. "About what?"

"Us."

"There is not much to –", now obviously in denial, Remus still refused to look at her.

"About what Sirius said about _us_," she specified. "About what is happening between _us_."

"Nothing is happening," he insisted, his voice so patronizing that something inside her snapped.

"It is _not_ nothing," Dora bellowed, attracting the attention of the few Order members that had not yet left. She never spared them a glance, though, but jumped up and dragged the unwilling Remus toward the stairs. Upon seeing that, Sirius wolf-whistled, but one patented Black death glare shut him up. Which, at any other time, would have filled Dora with pride. Now, though, she had bigger problems. The crumbling of her oldest and most precious friendship, for one.

"Dora," Remus tried to calm her, putting up resistance as soon as they were out of their colleagues' sight, but she only fastened her stride, gripping his hand even tighter, as if afraid he would disappear if she let go of him. And that was not even that improbable.

Only when the dark door of the library shut behind them, did she stop, looking at him almost pleadingly. "It is not nothing," she repeated, her voice urgent.

"But what if it is?" Having expected loud protests and twisted logics, his answer surprised her, told her more about his struggle then his previous distance. Before she could regain her wit, though, he continued in that infuriating teacher voice of his. "It is only naturally that you find yourself interested in your male friends. You've done the same with Charlie and that boy from Auror training. You grow close and at some point you want to test your limits. That is not necessarily a bad thing, but in this case –"

"I want to test my limits?" Dora asked incredulously, her eyes narrowed. Normally that would have been the point where he stopped, retraced his steps and tried his best to salvage the situation. Now, though, he pushed on, intent on getting over this delicate topic.

"Yes. But I can assure you, you don't have to. I've known you your whole life and we are friends. Nothing more. No matter what else you believe you're feeling right now."

"Just because I, unlike you, am not a master in bloody self-denial, Remus Lupin," Dora snarled, more upset than she thought possible, "Doesn't mean that I want things just for the sake of getting them." Huffing like an infuriated mother dragon, she pointed her finger right at his chest. "I _know_ what I want, and I know _why _I want it and –"

"And I'm not going to risk some very good friendships for a passing school girl infatuation," Remus cut in coolly, seemingly completely unmoved, but the expression in his amber eyes was flat.

"School girl?" Dora shrieked. "This is what you see in me? Some wanton girl lusting for a professor figure." Taking the effort to straighten herself, she tried to calm down a bit, though the angry red did not disappear from her cheeks or her hair. "Sorry to disappoint, but you were not that impressive a teacher."

Unfazed by her snide comment, Remus nodded. "Then we seem to agree on at least on thing. Maybe we can just put this whole ugly affair behind us then?"

Dora could not believe him, his cold demeanour. The _nerve_ of this man. She knew – she had to be right in her guess that his feelings for her were not as inexistent as he pretended them to be. Well, that assumption was mainly based on Sirius' observation, which should have been discouraging in itself – but they had both been Marauders. They _knew_ each other. And Remus had not protested then.

Only now, after she had decided to go on the offensive, knowing full well that Remus would never do anything 'untoward' on his own. He did appreciate her and her parents' friendships too much for that. But this vehement resistance was worse than she had feared. Especially now that their world was descending into another war and no one could be sure how much time they had really left.

"No," Dora insisted, having to fight down the childish impulse to stomp her feet. "I will not. And if you'd only stop being stubborn for one bloody minute so we can talk -"

"There is nothing to talk about," a distinct note of finality accompanied Remus' abrupt tone and he turned around, striding towards the door.

"But I lo-" Dora began, desperately wishing that he would just listen to her, understand that she was completely serious.

"Don't say it," Remus cut her off, sounding as if he was already miles away, as if not interrupting the confession of her feelings for him. "Because you don't."

"Remus," she tried again, seeing him open the door but unable to move herself. Every step further seemed to raise walls between them, almost tangible in the tense air.

Stopping right in the doorway, he faced her once again, though his eyes were fixed on a point over her left shoulder. "Be so good to tell Andromeda that I will be unable to attend our weekly dinner tomorrow evening."

Then he was gone, just like that, and Dora seemed to sink in on herself, all strength leaving her shoulders, staring at the space he had occupied mere moments ago. It hurt, she mused, being rejected like that. Rejected by _him_ of all people. And, even worse, she could not even begin to think of a way to salvage this situation, their friendship. They had always trusted each other with everything. But how could they do that now?

And she was not even sure whom she was more angry at. Him, for being his usual insufferable but honourable self, doing what he thought was right instead of what might bring him happiness for once. Or herself, for complicating their relationship like that, for falling for the one person she never wanted to lose. She was sure of her feelings, but maybe it would have been better to keep them hidden, to wait whether he would realize himself what they might have. If he would only give them a chance. Maybe it would have been better to have at least part of him – the part she had come to love in the first place, because he had always been there for her – than pushing him away because she wanted more.

A sudden cough interrupted her thoughts, causing her head to snap up hopefully. Had he seen reason and come back?

But it was only Sirius, standing awkwardly in the door. His face was unreadable, so she could not surmise what he thought of the whole situation. "It seems, that didn't go too well."

Feeling the need to punch something, someone if her cousin dared to make another badly timed comment, she said lowly, but dangerously, "Out."

An elegantly raised eyebrow met her command. "May I remind you that you are in _my_ house and –"

"Out," Dora roared, her eyes glowing furiously. Sirius, very familiar with her typically Black temper, raised his hands in a placating manner.

"All right, all right. I'm gone."

And then he was. And she was alone.

* * *

Thank you for reading!


	8. Tearing Down Walls

Here we go, another chapter, and with Sirius giving tips on relationships - or rather trying to knock some sense into them.

Thank you to **reader**, **VlightPhase** and **BlueSwallow80**.

Hope you like this one as well.

* * *

Tearing Down Walls

„Why are you so bloody stubborn?" Sirius looked at his friend over the rim of his whiskey glass, eyes slightly narrowed.

"Are you –" Remus stopped himself, not wanting to put up with that old name pun that had stopped being funny before their first week in Hogwarts had been over.

"Yes I am," Sirius answered nonetheless, though not amused either. "You're perfect for each other."

"We are _not_ perfect. She's got her whole life ahead of her."

"And you are old and poor and damaged. Merlin, I've heard your stupid arguments a thousand time. I _don't _want to go over them again."

"Then stop bringing up this subject."

Remus was frustrated. All had been good before his friend had started making constant comments about him and Dora. Until the both of them could no longer ignore the grain of truth in his mockery. Things had started to go downhill from there.

He had known her since her birth, tagging along when Sirius had went to meet his baby cousin for the first time. And then he had become her friend and confidant.

She had a crush on him, nothing more. It would be over pretty soon and then it would only be awkward if he would react any different to her advances. They were friends, and he wanted them to _stay_ friends. That would not happen if he gave in to her pleading and his own bloody feelings – which really weren't helping.

But this was not only between them. What would he tell Andromeda and Ted if he asked out their daughter with whom he had spent hours and days alone during her childhood. 'Hey there, don't worry I was waiting until she was of age and out of Hogwarts before I made my move on her.' Brilliant idea.

"You should at least talk to her about this." Remus opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius stopped him with a glare. "She _is_ old enough to know what she wants. And, believe me, she cherishes your friendship so much, she wouldn't risk it if she wasn't sure about this."

"Funny, to me it seems like she has completely lost her mind."

"You certainly are as stubborn as only old men can be."

Remus did not deem that worthy of an answer. Instead he made his way over to the door, intent on getting out of the house for a while to clear his head, and maybe find some Death Eaters to keep him occupied.

"Damn you, Remus. Don't run away and leave me here all alone," Sirius shouted, but to no avail. His friend did not even look back. Muttering obscenities under his breath, he did not bother to get up and run after Remus. They were all so very adamant on him staying put and not leaving the house, and he was not so sure he could stick to that, if he went down now and saw the front door open right in front of him, with freedom so alluringly close.

Instead he refilled his glass and gripped it with bony hands, refusing to give into the urge to throw it against the nearest wall. Ever since coming back into his childhood home, he had destroyed a whole wagon load of dishes. Seeing his mother's good china shatter on the floor had been very satisfactory. Doing it in front of her thrice damned portrait even more so.

He kept sitting there in the library, the only room in the house that seemed the least bit inviting, due to Remus – always a book lover – taking care of it. It would probably be a good idea to do some more cleaning and sorting through his family's stuff, lest the children encountered some of the more dangerous artefacts that were bound to be lying around, but he could not get himself to care.

Being locked up here, of all places, was not doing him any good. It was hard to escape the nightmares the dementors left him when waking up brought no relief either. The first moments after opening his eyes always left him in a panic, thinking he was back home during the holidays after fifth year, expecting his mother to show up any second to start yelling and cursing.

Remembering all that had happened and why he was back, was not helping at all.

When he heard the front door open, he was pleasantly surprised, thinking that Remus had changed his mind and come back. But just as he wanted to call out and apologize and try to be better company this time, someone else's voice interrupted him.

"Remus," Dora sounded almost reluctant. "Are you here?" Her steps came up the stairs and closer to the library door. Everyone knew that was where the werewolf could be found most of the time.

"Remus," she repeated, sticking her head into the room, eyes hopeful at seeing the fire burning. But when she recognized Sirius, her face fell. "Oh."

"Only me," he offered, caught between being hurt at her obvious disappointment and relief at having another human being there with him.

"So, Remus is out?" When he nodded, she sighed and entered, sitting down in Remus' usual seat, as if that would call him back.

"Yeah," Sirius nodded, then raised his bottle. "Want some?"

For a moment it seemed like she would refuse, no doubt thinking about the Order meeting later or her job. But she extended her hand, shrugging. "Why not."

He poured her a generous amount. "You don't look good."

"Geez, thanks cousin. You don't look that healthy either. Still not over your twelve years long island vacation?" her tone was biting, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she looked down apologetically. "I'm –"

"He'll come around."

At that her head snapped up, eyes filled with hope and suspicion. "What?"

"Remus is stubborn as hell. But so are you. It will take some time, but he will see eventually, that you are serious about this."

"He thinks I'm not –" Dora sputtered.

"He thinks he is not good enough for you," Sirius smirked. "As I'm sure he has told you a hundred times already."

"Only once or twice actually. He usually runs away _before_ we can even argue." Sighing, she downed the amber liquid and held out her glass for him to refill it.

"He values you above most other things. He wants you to be happy, but," after hesitating for a second, Sirius decided to be blunt, "He doesn't want to be hurt again."

"What?" Dora blurted out, voice laced with disbelief.

"He'll deny it, of course. In fact, I don't think he's even aware of it. It's just," he looked up helplessly. He had never been good at all things containing emotions. "After Halloween – He lost everything and, somehow, then he found you, and you caught him and helped him up again.

"He loves you. Not only romantically. Also in a deeper kind of way. Because you've been there for him after we have left him."

Suddenly a thought crossed his mind and made him laugh, which caused Dora to look at him strangely. "It's – Well, the two of you have been friends for longer than we have. You know," at that, bitterness crept into his voice, "Our all-encompassing, unbreakable friendship. Brothers for life. All that nonsense.

"You were what, five?, when you met at the funeral, and still your word was worth more than our silly vows." He leaned back, by then talking mostly to himself. "You said you'd be his friend, and you were. Just like that. I wonder where it all went wrong for us."

They sat in silence for a while, Sirius pondering the shattered pieces of their bond, Dora thinking intently about his words, too caught up in her own problems to offer him any comfort.

"So you say, he thinks that this is just – a _mood_?" she blinked several times. "He thinks I've got a crush, like a silly school girl on her teacher, and when I've had a shag I'll let him fall and be on my way."

Despite it being inappropriate, Sirius had to chuckle at her being so upset, but he sobered up fast when she sent him a withering glare.

"Are you sure it is _not_ a mood?" it seemed like she wanted to jump up and hit him, but she caught herself and thought about his words.

"Yes," she finally offered. "This is nothing like with the boys at school or Damien in Auror training. That was nice and all, but –" She had no words, but Sirius thought he understood her nonetheless.

"What do I do if he," Dora trailed off, uncertain, maybe even a bit afraid.

"He loves you," Sirius repeated his earlier sentiment. "It is obvious."

At that she chuckled. "To all but us, you mean?"

But he shook his head. "I'm sure he knows. He would just never act on it. He's," searching for the right word, he threw a look at the door leading to the rest of his hated home. "He is terrified of losing you."

He felt like he needed to elaborate further. "I know he is afraid of losing me. When I came back I – Well, I know he still cares for me and we are friends, but he keeps his distance. He's always ready to jump up and be out of the door. All to save himself some of the pain when I leave him again."

"_When_ you leave him again," the tense protectiveness in her voice made him smile.

"Yes. I mean, it's only a matter of time. I'm an escaped convict, innocent or not. The Ministry is searching for me. And I'm sure one day, probably soon, I'll snap and refuse to be left behind when all of you go out onto a mission or other. One day, I won't be coming back."

It was a rare occurrence for Sirius to be so pragmatic. His nonchalance added weight to his statement.

"When he quit his teaching job, he told me he'd rather leave than be thrown out. That's the same thing then?"

"Yes."

"But how do I make him see that I don't plan on leaving him anytime soon. Or let _him_ leave?" she asked in a frustrated tone.

Before Sirius had a chance to answer, though, the door opened and the very subject of their discussion entered the library, an apologetic expression on his face.

"I'm sorry, Sirius, I shouldn't have –" when his eyes fell on Dora, he stopped cold, eyes darting between them suspiciously. "I'm sorry," he then repeated, voice far more polite, detached even. "I didn't know you had a guest."

Again, Sirius was interrupted before he could open his mouth – and possibly defuse the situation before it blew up into their faces.

"Guest?" Dora snapped. "Is that what I am now? Just another Order member. Or maybe nothing more than Sirius' distant cousin coming over for tea?"

Remus flinched at her tone, but did not make a move to calm her down. Instead he turned back around. "I'll leave you to it then. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important."

"The hell you will," when it was obvious that he did not intend to stay and talk, Dora jumped to her feet and all but ran across the room, grabbing Remus' arm and dragging him back in and towards his seat. After pushing him into it, she did not sit back down again, but stayed right in front of him, glaring at him with an intensity that would have made her mother proud.

"You will not leave this room, Remus Lupin, until you have come to your senses."

He looked up at her uneasily. "Dora –"

"And don't you dare call me that when you don't mean it."

Sirius decided that this was his clue to leave. He did not want to be caught in the crossfire, which was more than probable if he interpreted the pleading glances his friend was sending him right. But Remus knew his stance on things. No need to be pulled into what would surely turn out to be a pretty ugly affair.

After his one possible saviour had closed the door behind him, Remus sighed. "Do-," he began, then corrected himself, "Tonks." She winced at that, which made him feel guilty, but she had insisted on it. "I don't know what you want to hear."

She deflated somewhat at his tone. "I want you to stop being so bloody defensive when it comes to us."

"There is no _us_ –"

"Due to you denying that it could be."

They glared at each other.

"Sirius said –"

"So Sirius was giving you tips on relationships?" Remus mouth curled into a mocking smile. "Don't you know that he's never been one to keep a girl for longer than a month? Or do you think he's gathered some life-changing experience in Azkaban." He was glad their friend had left them alone. It was not his intention to hurt Sirius, too.

"I didn't ask for advice on girls, but on _you_." That, Dora noted with smug satisfaction, shut him up. Only not for very long.

"And what was it that Professor Sirius had to say about me?"

She regarded him thoughtfully for a second, then decided to be honest. "That you don't want to be hurt." He clearly had not expected that. "This is not some hormone-driven thing, Remus. I wouldn't do that to you. I –"

"You don't know what you'd be getting yourself into."

Anger sparked again inside her stomach. "That –"

He cut her off again, voice strangely soft. "Maybe I don't want you to be hurt either."

"If this is about you being too old and a bloody werewolf –"

"Of course it is," he said, still calm, making her feel foolish about her outbursts. "You're an Auror. What do you think the Ministry will say, when you decide to go out with a Dark Creature? A half-breed?"

"I don't care what they say," her voice was almost desperate by now. "I know you want me to think about my career and life and whatnot. But I don't care about any of that, if I cannot be happy. And being with you has always made me happy. And now we could be – something so much better than what we've been up until now."

"Or it will fall apart as fast as it has come upon us," he smiled sadly, "and then _we_'d be nothing at all."

Only part of her registered what he really meant to say with that. The other, much bigger part, had halted at the fact that he had said 'what has come upon _us_'. As in both of them.

"So you do feel the same," he looked up sheepishly, no doubt cursing himself for his foolish choice of words. But before he could attempt to twist the words around, she continued hastily. "Don't lie to me. You promised once you'd never do that."

Remus stayed silent for what seemed like an eternity, looking at everything but her. "Yes," he finally admitted, still avoiding her eyes. "But that doesn't make it right."

Dora laughed at that, not happy in any way, but both, desperate and relieved. "Sometimes I think this is the only right thing in the world."

That brought a smile on his lips. During her teenage years she had read quite a couple of cheesy romance novels. This sounded like something right out of one of them. The young, beautiful and, of course, misunderstood heroine trying to make her chosen one see her undying love for him. Though he really would not have anything against a happy end for them.

Remus opened his arms for her. "Come here."

"Does that mean you're giving in?" she asked, her voice laced with doubt.

"No," he admitted. "That means, that I don't want to fight with you."

That was most likely the best she could get at this point. So she gave him a small smile and let herself sink into his embrace, glad to at least be able to hold him again. Those past weeks had been horrible.

And, she guessed, this was a first step into the right direction. Sirius had been right. They were both stubborn. Now she only had to prove, that she was far more so than Remus could ever be. Black blood, and all that.

"I don't want to lose you," Remus murmured into her hair.

"You won't," she promised.

* * *

Only a fortnight later, Sirius had to prove the truth of his words and get himself killed, and in a most avoidable way at that, leaving Remus desperate and grieving and more set than ever to not let anything above friendship happen between them.

The walls he was erecting between them were almost visible to her, and the distance hurt, even more so because her cousin's death had hit her harder than she had thought possible.

But she had managed to get through to Remus once before. Somehow, she would manage again. And this time, she would not let him leave, ever again.

* * *

Reviews make me happy. Thank you for reading!


	9. Aftermath of Fate

Here I am again with a new chapter, set between current chapter 8 and 9.

Hope you enjoy it!

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Aftermath Of Fate

Remus did not look up when she entered, though a slight, and perhaps involuntary, inclination of his head showed that he had noticed her. He was almost sunken in on himself, sitting at the cluttered desk of his room. Tense fingers lingered inches away from some parchment lying innocently in front of him, twitching every now and then as if afraid to close the short distance that could have been miles, too, for his inability to allow himself to touch the words he knew by heart. They pained him, but he had always been one to disregard that for the low undercurrent of joy it brought.

Not quite sure how to break the silence clouding her friend, Dora stepped closer to him, stopping when she reached the desk. _Moony,_ the parchment read in the elegant if somewhat impatient script of her cousin. Feeling a rush of helpless sympathy, mixing unpleasantly with her own grief, she raised her hand, not quite touching his shoulders in a mocking irony of his reaching out for Sirius' words.

It made her want to laugh, she, who always put her foot in her mouth at a loss for words, she with no sense of personal space unable to touch the man she claimed to love. Yes, that _was_ laughter bubbling hysterically in her stomach, but she carefully swallowed it down.

"Remus," Dora said, trailing off again, eliciting no reaction other than the smallest twitch in his fingers – away from her, she thought, ignoring the stab of irritation. It only strengthened her resolve to break Remus out of his stubborn grief for the past, back into the reality where his family still breathed and lived and hurt alongside him.

"Mum and Molly said you've skipped every scheduled meal with either of them," she tried to keep any chastising tone out of her voice, but her worry was blatantly obvious. "You didn't come to me either." No reaction. "Remus –"

"Dora," his voice was rough from disuse and raw emotion. "Please, just leave me alone." When he did not look at her, did not move at all, Dora felt her irritation grow.

"No," she snapped, a bit harsher than she had intended. "You have to get out of here, Remus. Get some air, eat something, meet people –"

That got him moving, though now definitely away from her. The motion looked painfully abrupt, and his back that was now facing her was tense, ready as a shield to guard him from any blow she might direct at him.

"Are you ser –", Dora started, only to stop herself hastily when she realized what her angry mind had been about to say, though his violent flinch indicated that it was too late.

"Please," he rasped, somehow making himself even smaller than he had been when she entered. "I just can't do this right now."

"Then _when_ can you? It's been a month, Remus," she pleaded, a desperate kind of urgency in her voice. But to no avail.

He merely repeated "I can't," his words caught between a plea and refusal. Refusal to accept this loss and her help and the fact that he of all people had made it so far – something so ridiculous he just could not wrap his head around it.

Stepping around the chair, she knelt in front of him, not willing to let herself be shut out any longer. "You have to." There were a thousand things she would have liked to tell him, to scream at him to make it go through that thick head of his. But she settled for this. A simple truth, and a goal that seemed impossible to reach from where they were now.

The first days after the fight in the Department of Mysteries had been hard, but more physically exhausting. They had just not had enough time to sit down and reflect on what had happened, the finality had not yet registered. Harry needed to be consoled, all the children had to be checked over by Madam Pomfrey, who kept Hermione in the hospital wing for five days, fighting against the curse that just kept doing damage to her body. Someone had to inform Mr. and Mrs. Granger why their daughter missed the train and had a new scar adorning her chest.

Dumbledore had chosen Remus for that task, probably because he had been her teacher once and very good at words and diplomacy. Though Dora was sure it was partly to keep the werewolf's mind off of the loss of the last of his old friends.

Then of course, there was Voldemort. Not even the Ministry could deny his resurrection anymore, now that he had appeared in their very own atrium, mocking the powerful by trespassing right into the heart of their realm. And, naturally, they reacted with panic. The Order had all hands full, trying to keep building the resistance, as well as avoiding public chaos.

Soon, though, it all became their new reality, routine, so to speak. And with that bit of calm in the eye of the storm, came realization, grief.

"It's not fair," Remus said, finally raising his head, though his eyes, dull and dark, a far cry from their usual amber, still avoided hers.

Dora snorted in response. When had life ever been fair to him? Turned into a werewolf, cast into a war, betrayed by his friends, survived said friends, denied any kind of permanent job that would do his intelligence justice. No, fairness had definitely never been part of Remus' life.

She did not tell him that, however, knowing that he would have hated the very thought of her joining his pity party. Well, at any other time, he would not have allowed himself to wallow in self-pity like that. So she merely nodded. "I know."

"He was –" Remus trailed off helplessly, but Dora, seeing her chance to break him out of his misery, cut in resolutely.

"He was a drunkard and a miserable escapee who could not listen to those who had his best interests in mind. He was an idiot and jumped at the first sight of trouble. He blew all caution into the wind and," she took a deep breath. "And got himself killed." Ending her little rant, Dora fervently hoped she had not gone too far. She had loved her cousin, but her words _were_ true and she needed to get Remus out of his self-imposed stupor.

His eyes shut tightly, something akin to a whimper crossed Remus' lips, as his head sunk down onto his chest. Dora leaned forwards on her knees, her gaze softening as she reached out. This time there was no invisible barrier keeping her from touching him. His arm beneath her hand was tense, almost to the point of trembling.

"It's not your fault," she whispered, painfully aware of the inadequacy of these words.

"I should have kept him from going," Remus rambled, denying her words. "I should have been by his side, when Lestrange –"

"Shh," cupping his face with both her hands, she lifted his head, waiting patiently until his eyes flickered to hers. "Remus, you were there. But he did not _want_ to be saved."

That stilled him, knocked the breath out of his lungs, as he sorted through the racing thoughts in his mind.

A small eternity later, he looked at her. Really looked at her, clearer than he had done in weeks, seeing more than his recent losses and the imagined failures he loaded onto his shoulders.

"That's true, isn't it?" Remus mused. "It was – we were not enough anymore. Without James, after fourteen years of regrets –"

"I think he searched for death as much as it searched for him," Dora stated softly. Sirius had been like a caged animal, drowning in all the ways he could _not_ help. Being reunited with his old friend and his godson had not been enough to erase the overwhelming presence of the bars surrounding him, reminding him of past mistakes and miseries. "He needed to go home."

Some glint appeared in his eyes, making him seem more alive than he had since the fight in the Ministry. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he snapped, drawing his head back, out of her hands, but held it upright on his own. "He wasn't supposed to be a bloody coward."

Not giving her a chance to answer, he continued with his voice slightly raised. "He didn't even try. He had all of us and he just pushed us away." Shaking his head, Remus looked at the chaos on his desk, nearly growling when he took in the letter that had kept him captive earlier. With an angry motion, he swept it from the surface, several parchments and pictures following in its wake, turning the ground around them into a battlefield of fallen memories.

"I made it," he shouted, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "_I_ made it. And I was alone. I had _no one_."

"You had me." Dora spoke softly, claiming his shaking hands. "You had me to make new memories. _He_ had only ghosts of his past." There was certainly truth in that. Being locked up in the hated house of his family, with only Order members to come by, his friend and his godson, who looked like his dead best friend, constant reminders of what he had lost. He was twelve years out of his time, cast into another war, and one he could not end any more than he could the last.

"I had you," Remus agreed half-dazed as if still not able to believe _that_ wonder. And, in truth, he was not, catching himself at dreading the day she would finally decide that she could do better than him, that the whole world was open to her, not only one old werewolf, damaged beyond his years.

"And you _have_ me, still," she insisted quietly, knowing full well what was going on inside him, wondering herself when he would ever accept that he was stuck with her for good. That she would not leave him for anything. Not only because he had been her best friend for most of her life. But getting into that – _love_ as her inner voice so helpfully contributed, both giddy and exhausted – was a battle she would have to fight another time.

Resurfacing from her musings, she found Remus staring at her intently. "I do," he admitted and there was a small smile gracing his lips, gone almost as fast as it had appeared, but it was echoed in his eyes. "Thank you."

Dora squeezed his hands in response, not sure what exactly he was thanking her for. Stumbling onto him during the Potter's funeral, insisting on him becoming her friend, being there for him now or for loving him so unconditionally. She did not think he knew it either.

"Don't thank me just yet," she said cheerfully. "I still intend on getting you out of here. Grimmauld Place is not the right place to get over your mourning."

Remus did not answer her, but when she got to her feet he let her pull him up without resistance. Once they were standing, she pulled him into a hug, conveying all she could not find the right words for.

"Let's go then. I told Dad to cook for four."

* * *

And Ted had taken her words to heart. Maybe more than that. The table in the living room bent under all the plates waiting for hungry souls to devour them. All healthy and filling food, just right for someone who had spent a month starving himself due to utter negligence of his own well-being.

Andromeda had already been sitting there when Dora shooed Remus in to take his usual place, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Ahh," she said, and beneath the sarcasm was something else that he could not quite name. "The lost lamb has returned home."

A warmth spread in Remus' chest that he had not thought could emerge ever again after the loss of Sirius had settled like ice inside of him. But here he was, not even a minute after entering the house and he felt again like be belonged somewhere.

"Andromeda," he croaked, feeling like an utter fool.

"How did this miracle come to pass?"

Shuffling his feet, certain that his cheeks were turning red, he answered sheepishly. "Dora made me snap out of – it."

Andromeda nodded matter-of-factly. "She has a talent for that. Well, I hope you're not going to disappear on us like that again."

"I don't plan to." Now that he was here, he wondered how he could have stayed away for so long. As much as Sirius had felt like family to him, the Tonkses _were_ the Black scion's family. In blood and everything. Of course Remus would have been welcome here, especially while grieving. He could have done that in much better company than a battered, baleful house elf in a house he had come to despise nearly as much as its former owner.

"Sit down," Andromeda ordered, which he did, far more at ease now. "Judging on Nymphadora's obvious worry, I don't really have to ask how you're doing."

Shrugging uncomfortably, he answered somewhat evasively. "It is hard. Some might think this being the second time I've lost him would make it easier. But –"

"It doesn't."

Shaking his head he agreed with her. Then he chuckled bitterly. "I somehow expect him to just miraculously come back again. I mean," he looked at her helplessly. "He did it before. I thought him gone. I _wished_ him dead. But he came back and I was wrong and everything would be easier if he could just do it again."

Andromeda regarded him silently, before sighing. "He won't."

"I know," he rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Doesn't make it better."

"I suppose not."

On a closer look, Andromeda looked exhausted herself. She held herself with the usual grace, her back straight and her face schooled into a carefully built mask to not betray her underlying emotions. But over the years he had gotten good at reading her – or maybe she had relaxed enough around him to allow him glimpses at her true self. Now, there were dark rings under her eyes and her posture was a bit stiff. She might not have let herself go, like he had, but she was mourning her cousin. All of a sudden Remus felt very selfish for isolating himself like that. She might need someone to share in her grief just as much as he did.

"How were _you_ faring?" he asked, and the sharp glint in her eyes told him that he was right.

"It helps to have my family around," Andromeda replied, chastising him subtly.

A smile flickered over his lips as he inclined his head. "I shall remember that for the future."

"See that you do."

Their impromptu therapy session was interrupted by Ted's cheerful greeting from the door, where he appeared with another plate filled with steaming food. "Look who's here," he called. "That's five galleons for me, darling."

"You bet on this?" Dora asked incredulously as she followed her father to the table, pouring them all a glass of wine. Twin amused glances met her from her parents, causing her to roll her eyes. "Of course you did. So how is it that _Dad_ won?"

"Not in this tone, young lady," Ted mock-scowled. "I'll have you know that I'm not _always_ losing."

"Please," Andromeda chimed in, her tone decidedly patronizing. "If we weren't married, meaning that I can't have you run around ruining my reputation, I'd have won your last shirt ten times over. And if you, my _dear_ Nymphadora, had waited one more day to retrieve Remus here –" she trailed off, shaking her head as if disappointed at her daughter's near betrayal.

Her husband though, grinned widely. "Well, darling, you might be a sneaky Slytherin, but you can't beat me in these matters." When she merely raised an eyebrow at him, he leaned over, patting her hand. "You know, _emotions_. _Love._ Things you can't fight with all your cunning and logic."

"Dad," Dora laughed. "You can really be glad that you're married. Mum's making her 'I'll murder you in your sleep if you say one more word' look." And, indeed, Andromeda was smiling sweetly, her right index finger trailing her steak knife innocently.

Ted gulped audibly, then tried to hide behind his wine glass. "Well," he retraced hastily. "Let's drink to Dora finally getting Remus home. No matter who managed to make some profit of it."

They drank, and Remus, despite believing himself unable to do so ever again only hours earlier, smiled and laughed with his all-but-family, the tension slowly leaving his shoulders and his mind letting go of some of its burdens, deciding instead to look forward again.

Later, while he and Dora were washing the dishes, he touched her arm gently. "Thank you," he said, then echoed Ted's toast. "For bringing me home."

Sneaking an arm around his waist, Dora hugged his side. "That's my job." And he had never been more happy about her being so hopelessly Huffelpuff.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please leave a review!


	10. Falling Into Place

I was away last week, so I couldn't update. But here's the next chapter. Taking place between chapters 10 and 11. Thank you to all who have been reviewing and favouriting!

And now, enjoy reading.

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Falling Into Place

The door bell rang loudly in the post-Christmas silence, causing Dora, who had been dozing in an armchair, to jump up in alarm. At once her heart was beating wildly, and different scenarios were running through her head of what might have gone wrong that would result in such a late-night visit.

Then logic caught up with her. Her floo network was always open, and neither there nor via her Auror badge had anyone tried to contact her. So, this was probably old Mrs. Graham from across the floor. She still readied her wand, half-hidden in her sleeve, on her way to the door, Mad-Eye's well-known words echoing in her ear.

She was all the more surprised when it was not Mrs. Graham, nor her parents or Charlie or some other Order member. And that fact did not help at all to calm her still racing heart.

"Dora," Remus greeted softly, taking in her slightly stiff posture with a sheepish smile.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted out, cringing inwardly. She may have never been very good with words, but even she could certainly do better. "Did something happen? Is Harry all right? And –"

"Everyone is doing well," one hand raised to placate her worries, he regarded her intensely. "Are _you_ all right?"

Feeling her cheeks turn hot, Dora let her gaze drop, seeing the small paddle of water gathering around his feet, indicating that he must have walked here through the snow. Pointing at it, she asked, "Did you get lost, or do you need a place to warm up before continuing your late-night walk."

Remus chuckled lowly. "No, no. I always wanted to come here. I just had to gather my courage."

Dora did not know what to make of this, but her heart rose higher in her chest, beating even faster. They had not been alone together since Sirius' death, not really. Whenever they met, it was either at Grimmauld Place with other Order members present, or for dinner with her parents. And he had not been in her flat for long before that. There were a thousand questions running through her head, but they all melted down to one: Had he finally accepted her – and _his_ – feelings?

Noticing that he was still standing on the floor outside, she stepped aside to let him in. Her expression carefully neutral, but she was sure he would have no difficulty to recognize the hope brimming in her eyes.

"Well, come on then. Get to the fire before you freeze. I'll make us tea." While part of her wanted to press him for answers immediately, she knew that she needed a couple minutes to gather her wits. If she was right, then this was her chance to get what she had been longing for these past years. And she really did not want to muck this up by putting her foot in her mouth, as she was so wont to do.

When she returned to the living room, the tea floating next to her, she found Remus sitting cross-legged in front of the fire-place. "I didn't think you'd take my words so literally," she smiled. "You can have a chair, you know."

"That's quite all right," he shrugged, turning around so that he could face her, his back to the flames. This way, his face was shrouded in shadow, making it much harder for her to gauge his reactions or to glimpse at the emotions he had gotten so good at hiding. She almost complimented him for that ingenious move. But, mostly, she felt a surge of anger. Why did he have to make everything so complicated all the time?

Biting her tongue, she poured tea for both of them and when she gave him his cup, she had the feeling that he took extra care that their fingers had no chance to touch. Yes, it was definitely anger, bubbling down in her stomach, but still she sat down gingerly.

"So," she drawled, and flinched slightly at her own tone. "What is it that I owe your visit to?"

Cradling his cup as if it held not only comfort but answers, too, Remus regarded her for a short time, before he shrugged again, and answered casually. "Hermione."

That was not what Dora had expected. "Our Hermione?" Earning herself a mockingly raised eyebrow, she hastily added, "Does she know?"

Only a week earlier, he would have gotten up and, on his way to the door no less, would have told her there was nothing to know about. Now, however, he shook his head. "No, she does not."

"Then what?"

When he elaborated, it was with a small smile. "Ron has gotten a – necklace from his girlfriend. Which upset our Hermione quite a bit."

Not getting what he was trying to tell her, Dora cocked her head to a side. "And?"

"She came to me later on to ask me a question." They shared a quick smile, because that did sound like their Hermione. "She asked whether boys ever really grow up."

Remus fell silent, leaving her to contemplate that. Though she was still confused about what he wanted to tell her. "So?," she finally asked slowly. "Hermione wants Ron, but he doesn't notice because –"

Trailing off, Dora's eyes snapped to Remus, who seemed to avoid her again. But he had come here, voluntarily at that. Deciding that she was done with beating around the bush, she put all on one card. "_Do_ boys ever grow up?"

It was then, that he looked at her, really looked at her. And even shrouded in the relative darkness of the room did she see _something_ in his amber eyes, trained unflinchingly on her. "Do girls ever grow _out_ of us?"

"Well," Dora intoned clearly, but the nervousness left a small tremor in her voice. "_I_ don't."

Disappointment welled up inside her when there was no obvious reaction. No relieved exhale, no grateful blinking of his eyes, no jubilant jumping up and taking her in his arms. But wait, was that a twitch in his lips?

"What does this mean, Remus?" Dora asked, moving her hand between the both of them, all the while wondering how such a simple question could take so much air out of her lungs.

"Mostly that I am an idiot," he confessed, shrugging one shoulder uncomfortably. "But –"

"But what?" unlike a dozen times before, there was no heat behind her words. It was a simple question, though she had no illusions that the answer would be simple, too.

"But I am still what I am."

There was no special emphasis on his words, no judgement. But that was probably even more painful, erecting it like a fact between them. They could work on problems and on fears. Saying this like an undeniable truth, however – how was she to fight against blind acceptance? She would not have been Dora Tonks, though, if she had not tried.

Getting up slowly, she put down her rapidly cooling tea, and made her way over to him. Sitting down right in front of him, their knees not-quite touching, she let her face bathe in the flickering fire light. He may have been afraid to show too much emotion, but she had Black blood running through her veins. And Blacks did not hide, not from those who matter the most.

"You are still _who_ you are," she said simply, announcing a truth she had carried around with her for years. "You are still the first and best friend I've ever had. You are still the person who drilled me in DADA when I thought I wouldn't make it. You are still the person who stood at my side when Mum was railing against my decision to join the Aurors."

Raising a hand slowly but deliberately, she laid it down on one of his and left it there. She did not squeeze, did not hold onto him. No, she just created a connection between them. "You are still the one I fell in love with. And don't _ever_ think that I have stopped loving you."

For a minute or two – or a hundred – none of them moved. They sat across from each other, the only sounds coming from the fire, which kept burning merrily, oblivious to the fact that the world had momentarily stopped turning. Then, Remus took his free hand to cover hears, a confession maybe, and a promise.

"I'm sorry," Remus said, but the smile playing on his lips told her it was not a refusal but a step into the right direction.

Moving forward, she sank into his readily opening arms, relief making her heart light but her limbs heavy. But she knew that he would always catch her.

"I know, you great prat," Dora murmured against his chest, taking in his warmth and his familiar smell, his steady heart beat against her ear.

And she had never felt more at home.

* * *

They kept it secret. Though, at first, there was not much to be kept secret. Between work and running themselves ragged for the Order, their lives did not change much. But Remus did not avoid being alone with her, anymore, and Dora did not have to spend an extra half hour in front of the mirror every morning to make herself look as if she got enough sleep and was not unhappy. In fact, she practically glowed all on her own, these days. They spent most of their free time together, and returned to their easy companionship of their earlier years.

The more observant of their friends found out about them all on their own. Moody, as grim and tight-lipped as always, clapped Remus on the back after one Order meeting, having had his magical eye on them the whole two hours, not missing a single one of their 'accidental' touches or how Dora's lips brushed his ear when quietly commenting on something or other. He nodded in what they could only interpret as approval and left with an almost chipper sounding "Constant vigilance", leaving Remus sputtering and Dora laughing wildly.

Kingsley, having noticed how eager Dora was to leave work in the evenings all of a sudden, put two and two together when Remus took her out for lunch one day, bringing flowers and wearing a bright smile not often seen on the usually so reserved werewolf. "Finally," he had smirked, waggling his eyebrows when Dora had blushed. But any other suggestive comments were cut off, when Remus answered him with a resounding "Yes" and kissed her right in front of his eyes. Something Dora gifted Kingsley a bottle fire whiskey for later. For 'helping her to get Remus out of his shell'.

Dumbledore, while not saying anything, seemed to smile at them for a tad longer than usual, the twinkle in his eyes despite the dark times almost up to its usual brightness.

Thankfully they avoided detection through Molly until much later, for her tirade about inappropriateness and 'Oh, dear, you are still so young,' was something they could really do without. Arthur, who had winked at them inconspicuously a couple times, seemed to share their sentiment and kept silent.

The other parental figures in Remus' life, did not, to his eternal relief, give them any grieve at all. In fact, the first time he had arrived together with Dora to their weekly dinner, Andromeda had eyed them carefully, while Ted had grinned and said, "You just have to tell me how you're doing it, Remus. None of _my_ younger friends want to go out with me."

Andromeda, of course, had only smiled sickly-sweet, muttering something along the lines of 'having to dust off my old poison kit if any of those _friends_ even thought about getting close to _my_ husband'.

And that was that. No long talks about his intentions, no warnings, no threats. They just welcomed him to their table and into their home like they had done a thousand times before. And even though expecting anything else from them was foolish and ridiculous, Remus could not help but feel relieved. They were his family of sorts, so, naturally, their approval was important to him. It was even worth Dora's cheeky smile as she rolled her eyes at him. "Told you so." And that she had.

* * *

Dumbledore was dead.

The message had spread like fire through their ranks, as well as through the rest of their world once morning had come and owls had reached parents and the Ministry. Hogwarts had been under attack. And Dumbledore was dead.

Remus had fought in the battle, had wounds to show and nightmares to live through. He had seen the body. And, still, he could not believe it. Could not believe that their leader, the symbol of the Light side had fallen. Could not believe that Snape, of all people, had done it. No matter the enmity between them, no matter years worth of bitter words and bad memories.

That was what had hit him most. For the second time betrayed by one of their own. Peter had been easy to trust. In fact, it had never been a question not to. As a friend and brother, there had never been any doubt.

And still, Snape's betrayal hit him just as hard, maybe even harder, if he did not count the emotional part of losing everything he had once called his own that first time. He had actively decided to trust their Potion Master, despite their history, despite all the evidence suggesting that he should not. And that trust had backfired most spectacularly.

A warm weight at his side snapped him out of his musings. "I can't believe it," Dora said quietly, her head against his shoulder, to get as much as to lend support. Just like his, her eyes were fixed on the coffin, not on the Ministry official standing up front, droning on and on about Dumbledore's great achievements.

The serene tension filling the air on Hogwarts' grounds seemed wrong. Too calm, too closed off. Days ago, there was blood running through the millennia-old school and curses flying through the hallways dedicated to learning.

Remus knew that had been the first step into chaos. With Dumbledore gone, they had lost more than just a Headmaster. Their world would be descending further and further into darkness if they did not step up to do something against it. Tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose, he tried to shake off the bad feeling trying to get hold of him. They would need all the strength they had, if they still wanted to win.

Win, hah. He could barely keep himself from laughing. Not losing would be more than enough.

When it was time to lower the coffin into its final resting place, Dora took his hand, gripping it tightly, and tried to crawl even deeper into his side. He could not blame her for that. Also, he knew that she would stand tall later, when they would need her. So, how could he protest her small display of weakness?

They went together, to pay their last respects and right before they were about to step away again, Dora looked at him.

"Marry me," she said simply, causing his head to snap around, speechless.

"What?" Remus croaked, but she only smiled sadly and took his hand, leading him back down from the podium. It would not do to cause a scene.

They did not stay long after that, making their rounds more out of respect than any will to linger longer than necessary. Dora seemed depressed somehow, and Remus was kept busy by mulling her – request? over and over in his head, caught between panicking and thinking it was just some – very bad – try to take his mind off recent events.

But as soon as they were back in her flat, though it was really already _theirs_ because Remus seldom spent the night elsewhere, she eyed him with that same strange intensity and repeated her words.

"Marry me." Simple as that.

"But –" Remus started to protest, not even knowing where to begin, because, surely, she knew that this was impossible. Madness.

"No," she interrupted softly. "I don't want to listen to your usual 'reasons'. I don't care for any of that." She could not help but add, "Just like Fleur does not care that Bill had a run in with Greyback." Dragging him gently off to the couch, they sat down, facing each other. "I love you, Remus Lupin. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Then she chuckled lowly, thought there was no humour in the somewhat brittle sound. "I would have left you more time to get comfortable with this idea. But it seems we don't have it," shrugging nonchalantly, she continued. "No one will dare say it out loud, but without Dumbledore, our chances have just dropped significantly. I don't know how long the 'rest of my life' will be, but I know that I want to live it as 'Dora Lupin'. To have you as long and as close as possible."

Remus did not speak immediately after she had fallen silent. Instead, he looked at her, long and utterly calm. His mouth opened and closed a couple times, as if he had to retrace, reformulate his words, fighting an inner battle.

"I would love nothing more than –"

"Then do it," she intoned urgently, noticing how carefully he had worded his statement. "We can marry the Muggle way first, so we won't attract attention of the wrong people, if that is one of your arguments. Mum and Dad did that, too. When everything is over," – _and if we're still alive_, hung unspoken in the air – "Then we can make it official in the magical world, too. It's just – It would mean a lot to me, if you would finally stop hiding behind this stupid condition that, contrary to your constant insistence, makes you a better man, not a wor-"

"Okay," Remus interrupted her rant, his voice gentle, and he looked a bit surprised at his own concession.

"What?", Dora asked dazedly, believing her mind was playing tricks on her.

"I said okay," he repeated, a smile appearing on his face. Then he jumped up, feeling more energetic than he had in weeks, only to fall down on one knee right in front of her.

"Dora Tonks," he intoned solemnly. "I might need a couple days to get my mother's ring from my vault, but – Do you want to marry me?"

Feeling a beaming smile spread across her face, she took his hand to pull him up against her. "Yes," and it came out louder than she had intended, nearly a shout really, holding much of her usual spark and the deep-rooted knowledge that she had finally triumphed over Remus' constant concerns.

"Thank you," he breathed, and then, "I love you, Dora."

She kissed him in response.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please tell me what you think about it!


	11. Always By Your Side

Thank you to **95Echelon**, **BlueSwallow80** and **VlightPhase** for reviewing!

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vii – Always By Your Side

Remus stood hesitatingly in the doorway to the kitchen, watching with a conflicted expression how Ted cut the ingredients for lunch with practised ease. Andromeda was sitting at the table, coffee mug in one hand, while being completely absorbed by the newspaper.

None of them seemed to have noticed his presence and simply continued with what was a well-known ritual of their family. Remus was not sure if he really wanted to disturb them. Not only because they were such a peaceful sight, enjoying each other's presence in silence, with only the occasional loving glance thrown in. Also – and the Marauder part of him hated to admit that – because he was afraid.

So he rather lingered there, frozen between the urge to flee back upstairs where Dora was waiting for him and the desperate wish to just get it over and done with.

"Do you think talking to him will send him running?" Ted suddenly spoke up, tone conversational.

"Maybe coffee will do the trick," Andromeda answered contemplatively.

"You mean as a bait? Luring him into the supposed safety before we strike?" His wife nodded emphatically, barely managing to hide her smile.

Remus felt heat rushing into his cheeks. Of course they had noticed him. Clearing his throat, he made a small step forward, only to freeze again.

"How about you just sit down?" Andromeda looked at him, eyes filled with amusement.

"Yes, do that," Ted added, voice filled with mock-concern. "I don't know how we could explain to Dora that her husband-to-be fainted and knocked himself out before he could bring us the good news."

Remus' brain needed a couple of moments to register the older man's words. Then, however, his head snapped up, surprised. And he was still speechless.

"I do believe you've broken him." Ted only beamed at his wife. "Never thought I'd see him at a loss for words."

"How?" Remus managed to sputter, as he finally made his way over to the table, to sink into one of the chairs right before he thought his legs would give out.

"Remus, dear," Andromeda reached out to pat his cheek, "it was only a matter of time."

"And it took you long enough," Ted added chastising. Due to him still holding the knife, the smile on his face was not really comforting. When would the storm of protests and disapproving declarations of 'we trusted you' come? "Even Sirius knew."

Remus groaned at that, half in annoyance at being reminded of countless 'motivating' speeches by his friend, half in pain at being reminded of said friend's death.

Both of them were looking at him expectantly, which only made him want to bury his face in his hands to pretend he was anywhere than here. But then, he straightened his back and scolded himself. He had faced worse things than this. Even thinking back on McGonagall's face when they had turned her – but no, this was definitely _not_ the time for remembering old pranks. Especially while he was about to ask for something as serious as this.

Nodding once to himself, he got up again and looked at his hosts. "Since you already seem to know, I'll just – I want to ask you for your daughter's hand." They stared at him for a moment, faces unmoved. Nervously he added, "Would you consider –"

At his formal tone – and probably the sweat on his forehead, too – Ted started grinning.

"There's no one I'd rather have as my son-in-law," he said. And, somehow, Remus believed him.

"Geez, Remus," Dora's voice came from the door, "I thought you'd never get it done."

Sputtering he turned around. "What – How?"

"You took so long, I felt I needed to see if you fainted somewhere," then she added mockingly, "As an Auror I _am_ supposed to save my fair share of damsels in mistress."

"You didn't think we'd do something to him, did you?" Ted asked disbelievingly, carelessly waving around the knife in his hand.

"Nah," she shook her head, though the small glance towards her mother betrayed her doubts.

"Please," Andromeda snorted, "As if you have ever listened to me before, even _if_ I had any objections."

"So you don't -" Dora and Remus asked, looking at each other sheepishly.

Then Remus ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, thank you. Really. This is –"

"It's only something to make you officially a part of the family," Ted declared, voice firm and honest. "Though I am a bit disappointed, that both of you had doubts about our reaction. We've known for ages."

All tension left Remus' shoulders, and the smile on his lips was wide and real. Funny, really, how worried he had been after fighting this so long himself. He still had his doubts at times, mostly when Dora was out, at work or on some Order mission, when it was easier to ignore how _right_ they felt. But this was usually fast forgotten, when Dora came home tired and weary, and a simple hug or kiss made her face brighten and her back straighten with new energy.

Right now she seemed just as relieved at him, and made her way over to lean into his warmth. His arms wrapped around her of their own accord.

"Look at them," Ted sighed dramatically. "To be young and in love."

Andromeda chuckled, and shook her head at her husband's antics.

"Well," Dora said quietly, voice serious even while her content smile never wavered. "I do hope we'll follow your example and stay happy until we're old and grey."

No joke followed. Only confident nods. "I have no doubt that you will."

* * *

"You look beautiful, my dear," Dora blushed at that. She did not seem a day older than four, radiating vitality like she always did when he had taken her on 'adventures'.

"Dad," she groaned, caught between embarrassment and utter joy – for the happiness in her father's eyes and because this day had really come, despite all the obstacles and arguing.

"What," he exclaimed playfully. "I'm allowed to be sentimental right before I give my daughter over to another man. No matter that I consider him my son already."

He had said it before, still she threw herself into his arms, whispering a heartfelt 'Thank you' into his ear.

During all those month in which they had barely spoken, because Remus refused to 'condemn her to a life of shame' due to him being 'too old and too poor and, oh, don't forget that small part about him being a werewolf', Ted had sat down with him, slowly undermining her husband-to-be's resistance without seeming to do so.

She had never asked how he had done it, but she guessed her mother had thrown in a couple of words, too, so it really was no wonder that Remus had given in eventually.

Dora would have managed that on her own, of course, but the war and their position in it made it easy to let her pride go and hurry the whole process up. Who knew how much time they had left.

"Well then, lets get you in there."

Both of them pretended not to notice the tears gathering in Ted's eyes. Instead they smiled and he took her arm, squeezing it once, and then they entered the small church where he and Andromeda had been wed a lifetime ago.

Similar to their wedding, there were few guests. Ted's mother, almost-blind by now but smiling nonetheless and Kingsley, who had been her mentor during Auror training and one of the few colleagues who could be trusted.

When they had reached their destination at the small altar, Ted found it not at all difficult to lay his daughter's hand into one of the man awaiting them in impatience and happy disbelief.

"How beautiful you are," Remus breathed in wonder, the light in his amber eyes rivalling even the sun.

Ted chuckled softly. "That's what I said." They did not seem to hear him, but looked at each other intensely, love radiating off them like warmth.

He nodded once at the waiting priest and stepped towards his seat next to Andromeda.

"I am happy for them," she whispered, contentment written all over her face, a rare sight these days, with their side being slowly driven back. "May they have all the time in the world."

* * *

"Have you put up additional wards around your flat?" Ted asked later, when they sat together enjoying a calm evening before everything went back to business and war. "You can always stay with us. There is more than enough room."

Remus smiled at him, truly grateful, but shook his head. "I went about it last week with Bill Weasley. He's brilliant with wards."

Relieved, but not really satisfied – how could he be with his daughter's safety on the line? – Ted added, "Is it enough?"

No one knew an answer to that. Would anything be enough if Voldemort decided that he wanted them dead?

"I wish you wouldn't be in the Auror Corps," Andromeda spoke up, but waved her words away almost instantly when she saw Dora open her mouth to protest, though she did not look apologetic at all. "I know. I would just be sleeping better if you weren't in the front line all the time."

"I'm in the Order, too, Mum. I'll always –"

Remus laid a hand on her arm. "At least you learned how to protect yourself properly. And you might even get a warning before something major happens. The Ministry does have its information system."

"If it doesn't fall like last time." Grim nods went all around.

Then Ted looked up at his son-in-law. "Will the Order send you out again to treat with the werewolves?" There was more than curiosity in his voice, trepidation maybe.

"They will try, I think," Remus replied. "Following Dumbledore's plans and all that. But I will not go. They didn't listen when there was peace. The situation for Dark Creatures has grown worse since then. So why would their answer change?"

After a sideward glance at his wife – and how giddy the mere thought of that words made him – he continued, "Also I have a reason to stay home now. No one will make me leave if I don't have to."

Though Remus' voice sounded casual, the expression in his eyes was not. Determination lay there, fear for this new-found happiness, love.

Dora smiled at him, his feelings mirrored on her face. "And I wouldn't let you go."

Without words they decided to stop talking about the war looming over their heads and souls. Instead they traded stories and jokes like any other family would, rejoicing in their short moment of infinity. And what did it matter, if they clung a bit harder to recalling childhood's innocence than they might have during more peaceful times.

Right there and then, they were alive.

* * *

"Thank you," Remus said later, when they were home and preparing for bed. "For being so stubborn and for refusing to giving up on making me see."

Dora started laughing, turning to embrace him.

"You make me the happiest man on earth." It was cheesy, but he just did not care about that.

She kissed him briefly before speaking herself. "Thank _you_. For seeing reason and being there for me whenever I needed you. You make me the happiest woman on earth." A playful smile appeared on her lips. "Well, actually, I know how you could make me even happier."

"Oh, pray tell, my dear wife," he breathed, drawing circles on her back, letting his hands wander slowly deeper. "How would I do that?"

They kissed again, longer this time, hard and soft and longing, full of promises and happy endings.

"Maybe you should slay the dragon before you run off with the princess?" Dora navigated them over to the bed, taking care to never lose skin contact. "You are, however, very lucky, because this princess is way too impatient to wait."

When she lowered herself onto the mattress, he refused to be pulled down with her. Instead he looked at her, concerned.

"I don't know if I can do this." Dora started pouting, making him grin. "But I guess a bit of encouragement would aid me greatly, so I can continue my quest with new energy."

"I'm sure it will," she laughed cheekily. "_If_ you are able to get up afterwards."

Mock-growling, he jumped at her, catching her lips in another kiss, while long fingers made short work of his shirt buttons. "We'll see who won't be able to walk come morning."

They did not get much sleep that night, for once for all the right reasons. And still, dawn came way too soon, no matter how desperately they clung to the darkness and that chance to be nothing but two souls in love, holding each other close as if that could keep out the world.

But morning came, and with it duty and responsibility and all the things they needed to save. And of course they got up without complaining, preparing to fight their battles one by one. They had never been more determined to win – now that they had everything to lose again.

* * *

Sorry for this. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	12. Revenge and Rewards

This is the last 'new' chapter I have prewritten, and even though I'm sure there will be more coming, it probably will take a while, since this semester is pretty exhausting. Though you can always motivate me with reviews and, say, telling me of scenes you might like to read about. All I need is inspiration and all the oh so interesting things I need to learn for the next exam won't keep me from writing. ;-)

And thank you to all who have been leaving reviews, or favourited and followed this. You certainly made me a happier person!

(Oh, I've almost forgotten, if anyone is interested in beta-reading this for me, please tell me. Every time I look it over, I find some new mistake. Your help would be much appreciated!)

* * *

Revenge and Rewards

The smell of freshly brewed tea greeted Remus as soon as he opened the door, pulling him directly into their small kitchen. A smile crept onto his lips as he leaned against the door frame, taking in the sight before him without announcing his presence.

Dora had put on the rather hilarious apron her grandmother had given her for the wedding, humming absentmindedly and pretty off-key, as she cut what seemed like randomly chosen food and mixed it all together without much decorum.

"My," he finally announced, causing her to whirl around, her face instantly brightening. "What do they teach you Aurors these days? I could have been anyone, sneaking into our flat, and you never even noticed."

"Remus," she called, ignoring that the tips of her hair turned a rather interesting shade of red. Then she inclined her head, adopting the same playful tone. "Well, my husband has a deft hand for wards. So I feel very safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't let anyone with less than benign motives enter here."

"So?" he drawled, taking slow steps closer to her. "That sounds like your husband is quite an intelligent man, to keep a jewel like you so well guarded." A fond chuckle escaped his lips when she closed the distance between them, sinking into his readily opened arms.

"Oh, that he is," she murmured against his chest. "And such a flatterer, too."

"You certainly deserve to be flattered constantly." Feeling her wide smile, he kissed the top of her head, wishing they could stay like this forever, their warmth mingling, hidden away from the rest of the world and its never ending problems.

"What are you cooking?" Remus asked, trying to identify the smells – and wondering whether the slightly burnt note was intended or not.

"Damn," Dora exclaimed, freeing herself from his embrace, hurrying over to their decidedly muggle oven. Which Dora had gotten in the hopes that non-magical cooking would suit her better than every other household-related spell she had ever tried. Remus, as any wise husband would, preferred to stay silent on that topic.

When she opened the oven, a not quite black cloud closed her in, which she waved away half-heartedly as she tried to save whatever poor food she was murdering. Putting the baking pan down on the table, she let out another string of swearwords that would have Andromeda sputtering in indignation. Then she sighed, dejectedly staring down at her well-coloured meal.

"What _were_ you cooking?" Remus asked, fighting hard to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"You were late," Dora pouted, as if that explained everything.

"So," he smirked. "As my punishment you decided you'd prepare dinner?"

Sparing him merely a disdainful sideward glance, she sighed. "Lasagne. It was supposed to be lasagne."

Remus made a small step closer, carefully looking into the pan. "Well, it doesn't look _that_ bad." To avoid her murderous glare, he went for two plates and cutlery. "Here," he said, pressing it into her hands. "You set the table, I'll make some salad to go with the _lasagne_." Only a slight emphasis betrayed his highly inappropriate – in Dora's mind – amusement.

Still, she looked up at him in surprise. "You want to eat it?"

"Do you want to insinuate that my wife is not able to cook an edible meal?" mock-frowning he raised the salad spoon warningly.

"Never," she sputtered, amused despite herself. "You wouldn't get yourself a woman that can't feed you. I heard old wolves have a nearly insatiable appetite."

"True," nodding, he shushed her to get to work. "Hurry, or it will be burned _and_ cold."

Finally forgetting her initial embarrassment, Dora snorted. "I don't think it could get worse."

At her words, he smiled sardonically. "Believe me, it could."

They set to work, Dora taking up her humming again, and serving a generous amount of lasagne for them both, desperately trying to hide its half-burned, half-undercooked state with an artful decoration of herbs. Then she sat down, watching wistfully as Remus took over her working space and prepared a, probably not only delicious-_looking_, salad. And that in merely a couple minutes, while she had been in the kitchen for hours. It was quite unfair, to see him doing this with such ease.

"You really don't have to eat this," she offered when they both sat at the table, a small part of her hoping to avoid tasting her creation.

But Remus merely laughed. "My dear Dora, believe me when I say that I've had worse. I'll even play the ever-obedient husband and praise your unmatched cooking skills."

Swatting his arm, she scowled. "You did not have to compare this to whatever grovel you got to eat at the werewolf camps."

He raised an eyebrow at her, thankfully not put out by her growled mention of his less fortunate days. "That's not at all what I meant, darling."

"No?" she challenged, regretting at once, when he began grinning wolfishly.

"No. What I meant is, that you're not the first Black whose miserable tries at cooking I had to endure." She visibly bristled, causing him to laugh loudly. "It's a good thing that Andromeda has your Dad, and that Sirius had me, back when we shared a flat. I'm not quite sure either of you would make it through a month."

Deciding not to fight this indubitable truth, she joined his laughter – and stopped abruptly when she took the first bite of her lasagne. "Ugh," she choked, marvelling at how Remus could swallow his own bite calmly, and without the slightest change in expression. Her cousin really had to have been worse at cooking than her.

"Well," she then said. "You have definitely earned your place as keeper of the house. I'll gladly work until I'm old and grey, if only you stay home."

"When you ask so charmingly," he toasted her with another spoonful of lasagne. "How could I ever reject such an offer? I'm positively delighted, my lady."

He grinned. Dora groaned. And switched her plate for the salad bowl.

* * *

Over the years, Ted had become good at hiding. A very necessary talent considering what blood run through his wife's veins – and through his. The Blacks were notorious for their quick tempers and their motto was – next to, of course, never ever sully their precious blood line with something like him – to shoot first and ask questions later. The Tonkses, in comparison, had a long history of angering the wrong people. So, in Ted's opinion they were perfect for each other. He had still learned to duck very soon into their marriage.

This day, however, he was not hiding because of something he had done himself. In fact, it was something far more scary: Andromeda was happy. Not happy in the common sense. More happy in the female 'we're going to have a girls outing today, so you better get out of my way and _don't try to destroy this with manly scepticism_'.

Remus, a fast learner himself, had naturally opted to share his father-in-law's hiding place in his office, but still looked a bit dazed at the sudden transformation the women had gone through. For one, Andromeda had been more energetic than he had ever seen her before – at least when there had been no adversary to crush or politician to criticize – making plans with a smile so wide her face would certainly hurt later.

_Nymphadora_ – for once not protesting her mother using her given name – was fluttering about like a hummingbird, giddy and impatiently throwing glances at whatever clock she came by.

"Mum," she called, pausing in the door to her father's office. "The portkey goes off in five minutes. Hurry." It was a silk scarf, lying innocently in Dora's hands, meant to bring them to Paris where they would meet up with a couple old friends to do unspeakable things – like shopping for hours on end.

Remus eyed the lavender coloured monstrosity with quite a bit of trepidation, causing Ted next to him to chuckle, though he could have sworn there was a bit of desperation lurking underneath.

"Just be glad they're leaving us at home," his father-in-law whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

Wide-eyed, Remus turned to him. "But they seem glad to go alone, why would they -?"

Another chuckle, a strange mix of fond and hysterical. "They're meeting with friends today. No men needed. But you'll find it out soon enough, when they're alone, they need someone to carry their bags. And it will be hour upon hour of trotting after them and –"

"Are we interrupting a quiet moment of manly bonding?" a sickly sweet voice sounded from the door, causing both men to jump and look guiltily toward their women. Andromeda regarded them with an expression of a hungry predator, while Dora was simply grinning, enjoying the show.

"Not at all," Ted stuttered, checking the time. "But we wouldn't want to keep you. It'll go off every second now, right?"

A single raised eyebrow indicated that his feeble excuse was not believed, but Andromeda nodded regally. "We'll be back by seven. Try not to destroy anything until then."

Ted swallowed hastily, obviously trying not to comment on the fact that it was not _them_ who needed to be careful, seeing as they would be staying home like obedient little housemen – and were not slightly insane women on a mission.

Trying to cover up his partner in misery's near faux-pas, Remus smiled benevolently. "Well, have fun in France."

"Oh, we will," Dora promised, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "And I'll get something for you."

When he started to protest, his wife regarded him with a predatory smile, while his parents-in-law wore incredulous expressions. Into the sudden chaos, the scarf began to glow, and a second later the women were gone, leaving behind blessed silence.

"What did I do?" Instead of replying, Ted kept staring at him, causing him to elaborate. "You know I don't need any-"

"Remus," Ted interrupted, talking slowly as if facing a child. "Your wife is going to _Paris_ with a bunch of other _women_ and she – quite cheekily if I might add – promised to get you _something_. I certainly hope that _my wife_ is getting _me_ something, too."

"Bu-" Realization hit Remus like a hammer, and when he felt his cheeks growing hot, he averted his eyes, much to the amusement of the older man.

"Oh, dear boy, I certainly understand why Andy loves riling people up. It is ever so much fun." Standing up, Ted made his way over to his desk, getting a tumbler and two glasses. "Here," he said, pouring for both of them. "I'm sure you need this right now. Just don't tell the girls. It's way too early for drinking." His tone, and the appreciative smile after he took a sip, showed that he did not agree with that sentiment.

And Remus found himself appreciating the thought. It was never too early for a glass of good whiskey – especially not after the morning they had.

It had started innocently enough, an owl with a letter from Andy interrupting their breakfast, Dora's smile upon reading it, her promise that it was good news. Which, apparently, was a synonym for female insanity dropping like a bomb. Leaving him to wash the dishes, Dora had disappeared into their bedroom, announcing she was going out with her mum and needed something to wear. Sweet fool that he was, Remus did not think much about it. His wife was, after all, pretty uncomplicated in those things.

He had not yet managed to clean the whole kitchen before frustrated shrieks sounded from the other end of their flat.

"Remus," his wife had called – or rather demanded. "I don't know what to wear."

Frowning upon entering their bed room and seeing the chaos she had caused was his second mistake. Swiftly followed by the third. "But you look lovely in everything of these."

Pointing at the multitude of clothes strewn around on the bed and ground, as if a storm had swept through the room, he almost missed her murderous glare.

"I do _not_ look good in all of these. They're old, and mismatched."

Holding up her favourite ripped jeans in a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, he offered innocently, "Why not this and one of these tops. It will be warm in France and –"

Upon noticing that her expression turned even darker, he trailed off, not quite certain what he had done wrong.

"I can't wear _ripped_ jeans when we're meeting mum's old friend Claire," her tone indicating what a scandalous thing he had just proposed, Dora buried herself under a heap of new clothes while trying to get a specific piece out of their wardrobe. "She'd never let us live that down," she continued sputtering after Remus had lent her a helping hand to free herself from her cloth prison. "In fact, I cannot wear trousers at all."

Remus looked at her in surprise. "You want to wear a – _dress_." He said it like that was something highly inappropriate – and he would have bet _his_ last shirt that, under normal circumstances, she would have agreed whole-heartedly. Though, this certainly was not normal. Not even for a family like theirs.

"But you like those jeans," he tried again, not quite getting her point. "And you hate dresses. You're not yourself in a dress."

That gave her momentary pause, in which she looked at him patronizingly. A rather ridiculous sight, as she was still half-covered by clothes in all colours.

"That is the point, Remus, dear," she stated slowly. "Claire would never allow herself to be seen in public with someone like me."

Still not understanding, Remus asked, "Then why go out with her at all?"

"Because it's Paris, " and, taking in the chaos around her, she added, as if it should be obvious, "And I don't have anything to wear."

Remus then decided, and that was probably the first good idea he had this day, that Dora would manage this serious problem on her own, and took small steps backward to the door. "I'll be in the kitchen, if you need me," he announced quietly.

But not quiet enough, as Dora, who had, in the mean time, returned her attention to the wardrobe, snapped her eyes to him. "Oh, no, Remus Lupin. You will stay right here and help your wife look respectable."

That had only been the beginning. After much searching and a quite excessive use of magic to change a barely acceptable dress into something even the apparently not easily pleased Claire would approve of, Dora insisted that he stayed and helped her getting 'the rest of her look' right.

For someone who could change her entire appearance at a whim and seemingly without any effort, it took half an eternity – and a pinch of domestic violence, because Remus' "But you love pink" was definitely not appreciated. But finally, and it had seemed impossible at multiple times, she was done.

Remus, ever the gentleman, kissed her cheek. "You look gorgeous, my dear." And because he was a fast learner, he did not say that the shining black hair made her look too much like a Black, and the sea-green dress too much like a Slytherin – something Claire would apparently like. And he certainly did not mention, that he definitely preferred her pink and punky. He was sure she would appreciate that more this night, when he could finally get her out of these clothes again.

But his martyrdom was not finished with that. As soon as they entered her parents' home, Andromeda looked her over with a critical gaze, declaring non-too-softly, "Well, that does not do at all." And off they were, ever so often dragging him or Ted upstairs to approve of something or other.

It was chaotic and nonsensical. It was torture. So he had definitely earned that whiskey, even if it was not even lunch yet.

* * *

At exactly seven o' clock in the evening, a familiar surge of magic brushed through the house and, not a second later, Andromeda and Dora appeared out of thin air laughing freely, and weighed down by an impressive amount of bags.

After sharing an indecipherable look, Remus and Ted rushed forwards to greet their wives and – ever the gentlemen – relieve them of their burdens.

"Remus," Dora grinned, throwing her arms around his neck. "I've got the perfect gift for you." Then, biting her lower lip, she regarded him closely. "Are you really hungry or do we want to go home immediately?"

"Nonsense," Andromeda decreed while kissing her husband's cheek – and skilfully ignoring his betrayed look. He was not hungry – not for dinner, at least. "We can't let the boys' dinner go to waste, just because we're a bit exhausted from our eventful day."

Ted muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, 'I hope you're not too exhausted to have an eventful night, too' which caused the younger couple to blush, while Andromeda merely patted his arm fondly.

"Come now, children. Set the table. The sooner we are done, the sooner we can all go to bed. Tomorrow's a normal work day, after all." She had not even completed her sentence, before Ted and Dora had rushed off, leaving a slightly flustered Remus alone in the company of his mother-in-law, who looked her typically aloof self, though there was something like pride shining in her eyes. She _was_ still the master manipulator in this family.

Remus, retreating to the safety of good manners, offered Andromeda his arm. "May I accompany you to dinner?"

She graciously accepted and together they made their way to the dining room at a leisurely pace – only to almost lose their composure when they found their respective spouses already seated, the cutlery in hand and twin impatient expressions adorning their eager faces.

"Children," Andromeda muttered again, allowing her son-in-law to lead her to her chair. He waited until she sat comfortably and only then went to his own place. Three pair of eyes – two desperate and one amused – followed his every movement, as he carefully placed the napkin on his knees, even going so far to dispose of an imaginary fleck of dust, before looking up.

"_Bon appétit_," Remus said, and the mischievous undertone was not missed by anyone at the table, making his parents-in-law very proud. Or rather, Andromeda was proud. Ted would be, later, when he did not have other things in mind.

As it was, relieved sighs escaped his and his daughter's lips, as they began loading their plates. Between two bites, Dora threw her husband a look, promising that he would later pay for that little display. But Remus merely grinned.

Mission accomplished.

* * *

Thank you for reading. And please leave a review.


	13. Closed Doors

This one's not happy, but I promise things will look up again right away ;-)

Thank you to **BlueSwallow80**, **VlightPhase** and **LittleMissImperfection**.

* * *

vii – Closed Doors

Andromeda's face was a mask, made of stone and ice and helplessness. Even knowing there was nothing he could possibly do, Remus felt like he should go over to her, promise her bitter-sweet nothings or – anything, really. He did not, however, because her daughter needed him more.

Dora clung to him, fingers digging painfully into his arm while he held her close. She was trembling, though he could not say if it was because of fear, sadness or underlying fury. He was not so sure about his own feelings, either.

On the outside, Ted seemed to be the only one unfazed by the storm that the news from the Ministry had brought into the Tonks' home.

_Muggleborn Registration Act_ they called it. A simple thing to catalogue Magical Britain's population.

Dora had found other words for it; _barbaric_ and _unfair_ and _not right_. She had ranted for hours, angry and impossible to calm, while her parents took one long look at each other and knew without words, what that meant for them.

It did not make it easier.

And now there he was, husband and father and good friend, about to turn into a run-away, hunted by the same law-office his daughter was working for.

Still, Ted smiled at them, small and sad, and his eyes held all the things he dared not say because they would make leaving impossible. Then, one last check to see if he had all the things needed to survive out there in a world torn by war, even while he left the most important ones behind.

"Well, I guess this is it," his voice was hoarse, full of emotions, and his smile wavered.

Remus softly loosened Dora's fingers and stepped forward, intent on giving the family time on their own after he had said his good-byes. He was slightly surprised when the older man hugged him, overwhelmed, too, because all of them had become his family, and losing one of them, especially like this, was ripping him apart.

"Keep my girls safe," Ted whispered into his ear.

"Always," Remus croaked through his painfully constricted throat, not managing to say anything more.

When he stepped back, Dora rushed in to take his place, throwing herself into her father's arms, holding him for what might very well be the last time.

He quietly made his way over to the door to the kitchen to give them privacy while finding something – anything – to keep him occupied.

A hand on his arm stopped him and when he snapped up his head, he met Andromeda's dark grey eyes.

"Stay," she said simply. "You are family, too."

Remus smiled, strained and painful, but honest. When he nodded his acceptance, she turned around to her husband.

"Dora," at any other time that would have elicited laughter. Andromeda using her daughter's nickname. In this moment, however, it was just another reminder, of impossible things happening. "There is no time."

Dora sobbed loudly and, for a moment, they held onto each other even closer, before Ted pushed her away softly.

"Don't cry, darling," Remus would have loved to feel as confident as Ted's voice sounded. "I'll be back in no time."

_After Voldemort is dead. After we have won._ If_ we win._

None of them said that aloud, not while things looked as bad as they did these days. Not with the Ministry run by Death Eaters and Hogwarts turned into a pureblood school, where children were tortured not taught. Not while their only hope had disappeared, on some obscure mission none of them knew about.

"Take care, Dad." Ted kissed Dora on the forehead, then pushed her towards Remus. She nodded, clearly gathering her courage, and left their parents while returning to her own safe spot in Remus' arms.

There were tears still running down her cheeks, but she didn't try to wipe them away, not ashamed for missing her father before he was gone – and she knew they would be replaced by new ones almost instantly.

Remus shushed her while she buried her face in his chest, not willing to actually see the door close behind Ted. He, however, had to see.

The Registration Act did not surprise him at all, having known prejudice for all his life. And, following Voldemort's goals, this was only to be expected. Ted's decision to leave was another matter altogether.

In a way, it made sense. Most of all, he would probably be safer on the run, than hiding in one of the Order safe houses – not that there were many left – or actively fighting by their side. Also, it was better for his family, who could then claim truthfully that they did not know where he was and that they had broken off all contact and allegiance with him. That would keep Andromeda out of trouble for siding and "sullying" her blood with a muggleborn, and Dora could keep working at the Ministry, being an inside source.

Which she would not. Despite several protests from other Order members. But he, and Andromeda, were more than happy with that decision. Having her at the front lines was dangerous enough. Sending her into off into the infiltrated Ministry would be even more so. And there, none of them could protect her.

"Stay safe," Ted's voice ripped him out of his musings. He had his bag in hand and a determined expression on his face.

This was it, then.

Funny, really, how such a simple act of a door closing and a friend leaving like he had done a thousand times before, could leave them so hollow, so heavy with fear and grief.

How long would it be until they would hear from him again? How long until they could hold him in their arms, and see him smile? How long – if it would happen at all. If there were anyone of them left a week from now, a month, a year.

They kept standing there in the entrance hall, silent, staring at dark polished wood that did not open again, no matter how hard all of them willed it to. Dora's face was still against his chest. He could feel warm tears moisten his shirt and her hands clutching at his back.

An eternity later, Andromeda moved. "I'll make tea," she sounded as if she was wondering how tea could make any of this better. And she half expected no water to come out of the tap, or their stove to be broken, but everything worked just as fine as it always did.

It seemed wrong, somehow. And she thought, not for the first time, that she'd rather fight off a dozen Death Eaters than face this alone, the silence, the empty house, the not knowing whether Ted was still alive.

Then Remus entered, half-carrying Dora and gently seating her at the table. He took the kettle out of Andromeda's trembling hands and pushed her, too, to sit down.

None of them said anything while he busied himself with preparing the tea, or for long after. But, somehow, them being there made it just a tiny bit better. Her daughter's tear-strained face, Remus' caring glances.

It made her remember that she was not in this alone.

* * *

For the time being, they had moved in with Andromeda. The house was big enough to give all the occupants some time alone when needed, but, overall, it helped all of them to have someone around, to keep up some kind of normalcy while outside the walls, their world was slowly burning down.

There had not yet been word of Harry and the Order missions themselves were not going well at all. But as soon as the door closed behind them, they managed to keep up that fragile illusion of peace.

"Stop reading, Remus," Dora called over from the bed, voice slightly impatient. She never had patience these days when it came to their private time. "I'm waiting for you."

Throwing her a seemingly uninterested look, he shrugged. "You know, this is rather fascinating. I think I'll just finish this chapter." Ignoring her groan, he continued. "And maybe the next one, too. Who knows if I'll have time tomorrow."

"Remus?" she asked, word drawn out, but he raised a hand and interrupted whatever she wanted to add, without even so much as looking up again.

"Did you just?" she harrumphed and he had to hide a grin behind his book – only to be caught completely by surprise when a pillow hit him right in the head.

"Oi," he exclaimed, too busy with not falling off his chair to say anything more coherent. At her giggling, he glared at her. "Do you think this is funny?"

When she merely nodded, he cracked a grin and got up, crossing his arms before walking over to her. "Well, it seems we have to do something about this then," he announced in his sternest voice.

Dora waggled her eyebrows at him cheekily, but when he dived for her, she squealed and tried to squirm out of the way of his fingers who, after so many years and tickling wars, knew exactly where to go.

"Mercy," she cried out.

He only laughed at that. "Did you have mercy at me just now?" She nodded. "Did you – what?" At his asking glance she nodded again. "You mean you _had_ mercy?" Remus sounded confused, which elicited another round of giggles.

"Of course I did," Dora looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. "I decided to give you another chance, instead of just getting up and going downstairs to play chess with my mum." Grinning, she added, "A very long game. It might have gone on the whole night."

Remus raised one eyebrow at that. "So, you would have left me all alone up here?" Suddenly he grinned widely. "Great, do just that, so I can go back to my book."

Upon her incredulous expression, he managed to hold the innocent look on his face for all of three seconds, before he started laughing and bent down to kiss her. When he was mere inches from her, she pushed against his chest.

"You, my dear husband, will pay for that," shrugging she continued, "Later. Now, we've got better things to do."

She raised her head and her lips met his with longing tenderness. Burying a hand in his hair, she pulled him down on her and he willingly followed her. His fingers moved down her sides, knowing just where she liked them best, causing her to lean into him.

"Do you still want to go and read," she teased when they parted,

"Do you still want to go and play chess with your mother?"

"Could you just _not_ talk about my mum right now?" Dora groaned, causing him to chuckle.

"As my Lady commands," he leaned down, trailing kisses across her collarbone. "We could talk about Greagot's Third Law of Arithmancy instead."

"_Or_ we could not talk at all." But, withdrawing slightly, she started nibbling at her lip. "Although, there _is_ something I wanted to tell you."

Her voice had grown serious, causing Remus to sit up at once, eyeing her with concern. "Did something happen?"

"No," shaking her head she corrected herself. "I mean, yes, but nothing bad. In fact, I think it is something wonderful."

It seemed as if her whole being was smiling at him. And that made his own lips curl upward on their own regard. "Did you get news from Ted?"

A shadow flickered through her eyes, but it was almost instantly gone again. They hadn't heard anything from her father ever since he left, but they tried to stay positive. So it had to be something very good indeed, if it made her forget about their missing family member, even if only for a while.

"No, but – Remus, I'm pregnant."

He did not smile. He did not kiss her again. In fact, he did not react at all.

"Remus," Dora repeated after a time filled with only tense silence, now almost uncertain. "We –"

Her words were lost somewhere in the air between them, and he did not hear them, but their meaning was already settling deep into his bones, cold and heavy.

"A child," Remus rasped, never noticing her hurt expression when he got up from the bed abruptly, turning away from her.

"Yes," she insisted stubbornly, following him, not willing to be shut out. "_Our _child."

"This is impossible," and the way he desperately glanced around the whole room made it seem like he did not only mean her being pregnant, but the whole situation between them.

"Well, actually," Dora drawled, good mood vanished completely, but was interrupted.

"You don't understand," by now he sounded almost angry. And that was not at all the reaction she had pictured. Of course, this was not the best time. They _were_ in a war, and they found themselves fighting every other day, but they were in love, and it felt right, and she knew they would manage.

"You don't understand," he repeated, running a hand through his hair, positively growling.

"What?" Dora snapped. She had enough of this and stepped right in front of him, forcing him to look at her. Though as soon as their eyes met, she wished she hadn't. His were dark and filled with a right chaos of mixing emotions: desperation, disbelief, a little bit of (forbidden) joy perhaps, but most of all fear.

Fear.

"Remus," she tried again, more softly this time, taking his face in between her hands. "We can do this."

Ripping his head away, he shook his head. "This is not about the very high probability that neither of us will survive this bloody war. Or about me being too old, and this just being ridiculously wrong." That hurt, but she refused to show him how much.

"Then what _is_ this about, Mr. I'm-Not-Good-Enough?" she had intended her voice to sound more scathing, but she just could not. This was not going at all like she had thought.

Closing his eyes, Remus continued much more quietly than before. "No one knows what – We – My kind doesn't usually breed."

_His_ kind? Breed? Anger was rushing through Dora's veins. Of all the things-

"Are you serious?" she asked in a dangerously low voice. "Do you want to tell me that –"

"I told you you wouldn't understand," he all but roared. Then straightened up and turned to the door. Right before he could disappear through it, he spoke up again, tonelessly and somehow detached.

"Don't wait up for me."

With that he was gone, hasting down the stairs, trying to calm the storm raging in his mind.

A child. A _child_. What had he done?


	14. Where We Belong

And here he is, going home again.

A big thank you to **Echelon95**, **BlueSwallow80** and** VlightPhase**.

* * *

The silence was driving him mad.

It had been three weeks and four days and an uncountable amount of lonely heartbeats and half-smiles that disappeared as soon as they had come because there was no one to share them with.

And it was so silent.

Remus was currently residing in the Shrieking Shack, not able to think about any other place where he could be alone to think, where no one would come to look for him, enemy _ or _friend.

There were a lot of noises originating from the old building. Drawn out gasps from the walls bending, howling whispers of the wind against stained glass, the painful creaks of rotten wood under his relentlessly pacing feet.

But on of those were _alive_.

Well, of course he spoke with fellow Order members or outside contacts, having not abandoned his duty or missions. It just was not what he craved.

_Her._ Her voice and laughter, the calming frequency of her breath. Her absence in all things was almost physically painful.

That the fault for this lay entirely with him did not make things better. Nor did the fact that going back was harder than it had any right to be.

A bitter chuckle rose in his throat. What was he so afraid of? He probably would not even be able to see her. Andromeda would guard her with everything she had, every last bit of desperation to keep the last member of her family safe, after everyone else had abandoned her in one way or another.

And that was just the crux of the matter. _He_ had abandoned _them_.

Harry's harsh words had opened his eyes, made him accept that he had been wrong, that he was not helping anyone with running away. That he was, in fact, making everything worse.

But he _had_ left, and he really had no right at all to just go back and expect them to take him in again. Especially considering that Dora must feel a thousand times worse than him, being the one who _was_ abandoned, with no say in it at all, no chance to prepare for the blow, or avoid it somehow.

So, here he was, in the Shrieking Shack, pacing endlessly, staring at the walls of this well-known prison. This time not trying to escape the all-mighty lure of the moon, though he was battling himself just as much.

"Damn it all," he whispered hoarsely, running a hand through his greying hair. Then he narrowed his eyes. "Damn it all," he repeated. And, without slowing his pace, he turned and disappeared.

The familiar sight, while somewhat soothing the heaviness in his bones, was not helping at all with his anxiety. There was a light on in Dora's room, small and flickering, and it filled him with new determination.

All he had longed for these past three weeks was there, within reach. Let Andromeda glare at him with disappointment and resentment, let Dora yell at him, let Ted, whenever he came back, fulfil his promise of eternal pain now that he dared hurt his daughter.

Just don't let them turn away.

Remus did not bother with squaring his shoulders. No need to appear more confident than he was. They were all the family he had left. So they would see right through it, anyway.

Long strides took him closer to the entrance, and when the well-known magic of the wards washed over him, he felt some of the tension leave his body. This was right, no matter how things would go.

Like so many years ago, when he had visited for the first time, the door opened before he had reached it. It was not Ted greeting him, nor where there any smiles to be seen. But the door _did_ open, and as of yet, no curses were flying at him.

Andromeda watched him coming closer, face unmoved and saying nothing until he stopped a couple feet from her. There were dark bags under her eyes, causing Remus to feel guilt rush through him again.

How could he have just left? Even more so during these times.

"Andromeda," he said simply, voice not sure at all, but hoarse and laced with emotion.

"You –" she started, then cleared her throat. "You're back."

It was not a question. She knew he would not be here if he was not sure about it. She knew he would not do this to her daughter, not on top of all the other pain.

"Yes." Relief reverberated with that single word, a confession of things much more complicated.

Andromeda nodded once, then stepped aside to let him in. The part of him that did not sigh in eternal relief, was not surprised. Many things were left unsaid, but they had come to an understanding nonetheless.

_It is not my forgiveness you need,_ the tired line of her shoulders seemed to whisper. _Go to her. If she takes you back, I will to. And then we will talk._

The ghost of a smile flickered across her lips at his answering nod, filled with all the strength she had come to admire him for. Dora would not send him away, she knew that, and she was glad for it. Those two were good for each other, and a force to be reckoned with, one she would not want to stand against.

Remus took each step with utmost care, caught between the urge to rush and the feeling of dread rising once again inside him. The way, while seeming to be a hundred miles, took him only a couple of stuttering heartbeats.

Then he knocked.

"I'm okay, Mum," _her_ voice answered at once, tired and not at all _okay_. "Go to bed."

He did not know what to reply, if there were any words at all that he _could _say, so he simply opened the door and stepped in.

_Home_, he thought, only to shake his head. _No, not yet._

"I said I'm –" she snapped and froze at the sight of him. Her hair was that mousy brown he had come to hate, for it was the very product of him hurting her. The bags under her eyes were just as dark as her mother's. And she seemed so small.

Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she suddenly laughed. It was not a happy sound.

"Merlin, why did no one tell me that being pregnant makes you go all barmy and gives you bloody hallucinations."

So she wanted him back?

Reluctantly, he stepped a bit closer, to get into the flickering circle of light from the candle, only to freeze again, stopped by the knowledge that he was not yet welcome. "I'm really here," and didn't that sound insufficient at all?

"A hallucination would say that," Dora pointed out, still not looking at him.

"We could get Andromeda. I doubt she would be hallucinating of me, too."

"And have her cart me off to St. Mungo's? Hell, no."

The whole situation seemed surreal. He had thought she'd be yelling by now, hitting him, cursing; anything, really. This rather beaten person did not seem like the ever vibrant girl he had married. (And left behind.)

Remus thought frantically of something to say, to apologize, to console her. That was when she looked up, and all thoughts vanished from his mind.

Her eyes were as tired as the rest of her, but still, they were filled with the strength he associated with her. There was hope, too. And not an insignificant amount of weariness.

"Dora," he started, trailing off again because '_I'm sorry_' simply was not enough to express what he felt.

She seemed to hear it nonetheless. "You're back," she said in an exact replica of her mother.

And he, having to trust her to understand this before anything else, also repeated his earlier sentiment. "Yes."

Blinking a couple of times, she stayed silent, then lowered her gaze and whispered, almost to herself, "Remus."

It was as if that broke some invisible wall between them that had made it possible for him to move. Two long strides were all it took for him to reach the bed where she sat curled up in herself. He knelt in front of her, extending his hands towards hers, lingering in the air, asking for permission to touch her again.

Dora did not hesitate to lean into his warmth, and that was when he knew that they would be good again, that they would make it through this maze of hurt and doubt he had erected.

"Remus," she said again, and then she was in his arms, clinging onto him, inhaling his scent deeply as if to fill every last fibre of her being. He mirrored her in kind.

"I'm back," he promised. _I will never leave again. Once was enough. I'll stay. I'll stay._

They did not talk that night, nor did they sleep. For hours they held onto each other, slowly letting go of fears and tension, their hearts beating in tact with the never ending echo inside of their minds. _Home, home, home, home._

* * *

"What made you see sense?" Andromeda asked later during breakfast. She looked a lot better this morning. Her eyes, while there were still dark circles beneath them, seemed more alive somehow, less worn.

When she had entered the kitchen to the both of them cooking and setting the table, every couple moments touching each other as if making sure this was not a dream, she had smiled and surprised Remus by drawing him into an embrace.

_I am not okay with what you did, and we _will_ have a talk later,_ she had said, _but I am glad that you are back._

"Harry," he answered, still puzzling about how much the boy had changed. Though, with a war looming over them and all those expectations on his shoulders, it really was no wonder.

"Harry?," Dora asked with obvious disbelief, then her head snapped up. "You've seen him?"

"Yes," Remus nodded. "They are staying at Grimmauld Place."

"But what are they doing? The Order is looking for them and they do what?"

"He didn't want to tell, said Dumbledore told him not to," for a second he hesitated, knowing both woman would surely understand the implication of his next words, how easily he would have abandoned them for another task. "I offered them my help."

Dora looked at him, indeed getting what he left out, nodded once and continued. "Then they are fools. These are not the times to play hero. They are far too vulnerable on their own."

Clearly waiting for him to agree with her, her face grew concerned when he did not.

"I -," he shrugged uncomfortably. "We did not part on good terms."

Andromeda snorted. "Then we shall thank him before we throttle him for taking unnecessary risks."

He smiled at the familiarity of it, Andromeda's dry sense of humour, to be followed by Ted's - or not. His smile grew strained, but he kept it up, willed himself to focuse on his homecoming, not on leaving. Never again on leaving.

* * *

_Dear sister,_ the letter said, words sprawled carelessly in mottled brown colour. _I am sure you will be very pleased, indeed, to hear that the filth you chose to sully your pure blood with, is no longer able to threaten your integrity._

_I have to admit I am disappointed that I did not catch him myself, but rest assured that I made sure that you are free of him from now on._

_You would do well to remind his spawn of just how fragile her standing in our future society is. It would be a shame if I had to come and teach her not to stand against those she will never be able do defeat._

_Stay safe, sister. Enjoy your little paradise of sins while it lasts. I will not forget._

_Bellatrix_

Afterwards, there was only silence.

* * *

"Don't go," Andromeda's voice was quiet and hoarse from disuse, still it rang through the eerie silence that filled the house.

"Mum," Dora's head snapped around from where she stood at the door, eyes narrowed to catch a glimpse of her mother standing in the dark entrance hall. "Are you –"

Stupid question. None of them were okay, but it had, understandably, hit Andromeda the hardest. Where her daughter still had the anger of the young to keep her occupied, there was only resignation for her, loss, the frightening knowledge of their life together being over. Just like that.

It was like living the life of a ghost. Time went by unnoticed, she slept and woke, sometimes she ate what her children put in front of her, though more often than not she just stared at her plate, thinking back to calm weekends when they had spent hours in the kitchen, cooking and reading and sharing jokes.

There were no jokes anymore. Sure, there was talk. Remus did his best to get their minds off things, having refused to leave them even for a single minute. And she was glad for that, that Dora had him, at least. Because, frankly, she was not so sure she could have pulled herself together for her daughter, had it been only them.

As it was, they left her room to grieve while constantly nudging her into going on. Living. Breathing. All the things that had not seemed important since that letter nearly a month ago.

This night, though, whispered voices had snapped her out of her apathy. Maybe they thought she was sleeping, maybe they did not want her to know they were leaving. It did not matter, she heard, and it made ice spread through her veins.

They could not go. Maybe her fear was irrational but she had the agonizing suspicion that, if the door closed behind them, they would not come back.

"Andromeda," Remus said, half-concerned, half-soothing. "There's an Order meeting tonight. We'll be back in a few hours."

"No." Why couldn't they see? She wanted to voice her fears, but every breath seemed to constrict her throat further.

Dora squeezed Remus' arm as if to stop him from something, leaving, staying. Then she made her way over to her mother, their roles suddenly reversed, with her trying to calm the older woman's nerves.

"It's okay, Mum," she opened her arms and pulled Andromeda into an embrace, not caring that the swelling of her belly made it quite uncomfortable for them both.

"Don't go," Andromeda repeated, a tiny bit of her old stubbornness shining through.

"Shh, we won't," Dora promised, turning her head to share a glance with Remus, who nodded and walked towards the living room, probably to tell someone they weren't coming to the meeting.

He was not that unhappy with that, anyway, with Dora's pregnancy drawing closer to its end. Even with her not having been on active duty for quite some time, he did not want her any closer to the war than necessary.

Also, because none of them were as emotionally stable as they needed to be to avoid possibly fatal mistakes.

When he returned to the entrance hall, both women were still standing the exact way he had left them, communicating through something far more honest than words could ever be. He gently nudged them towards the kitchen.

Andromeda was right. They should not go anywhere.

Right now, they had their own battles to win.

* * *

I did want to end this on a lighter note, but I thought you'd rather want to have a chapter at all than wait for me to get out of my studying-induced bad mood. Next time!

Thank you for reading and, please, tell me what you think.


	15. Chasing Dreams

A big thank you to **BlueSwallow80**, **roflshvuakomail**, **VlightPhase** and **NovelLady**.

* * *

Chasing Dreams

„So, what do you think about this one?" Dora's playful voice stood in a stark contrast to the dark shadows beneath her eyes. It still held the same tiredness Remus felt deep in his bones. That did not matter right now, though. They were home and together and safe for the moment.

"I'd rather reserve judgement," he answered, one eyebrow raised mockingly. "I am quite happy with my momentary state of health."

Cocking her head, Dora frowned and looked back at the – _thing_ she had shoved into his face mere seconds ago. "I think it's cute," upon getting no response, she corrected herself. "Well, it _could_ be worse."

"Like the one you tried last week," Remus dodged her fist with ease. "No, you're right, of course. You _are_ getting better at this." That was when he could not fight off the grin any longer. "Give it to me."

"No," Dora squealed when he reached out, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "You'll just ruin it."

Remus laughed out loud.

"Now you're just mean," she pouted, but looked happy nonetheless. Laughter was rare these days, and those short moments at home with only their family and none of the worries about their world and future were all that kept her going at times.

That, and their son, who was watching them curiously from where he lay on their bed, young eyes focused on them, a smile on his lips – and hair that, for the time being, was bright orange, which clashed horribly with his Gryffindor red rompers.

Which was why she had tried to change the colour of another one to something that would make Teddy look less ridiculous. Only, it seemed, as proficient as she was at transfiguring herself, inanimate objects seemed to be completely out of her league. Though she was sure, even someone who was actually good at this would be hard-pressed to manage this exact shade of neon-green. Or the lilac polka dots she was not even aiming for.

"I promise I won't ruin it." _Any more than you already did_, hung in the air between them, as obvious as if he had said it out loud, causing her to harrumph, not yet willing to give in.

"Or," he relented, still grinning widely, "we can just wait which colour our dear son will sport next. Maybe it will match and –" At that, he was cut off by the green monstrosity hitting him right in the face.

He fully expected Dora to use his momentary distraction to jump at him and maybe start another tickling war – something they would probably never grow tired off – instead she smiled and came to engulf him in a warm embrace, full of underlying meaning.

Dora loved the way he would say 'our son' every now and then. The way his face lit up with wonder whenever he looked at the tiny child they had made. How his voice would grow soft. How he seemed years younger and more healthy than she had ever seen him.

It gave her hope. For the days to come. For their future. It made that dream image in her head, where they were old and grey and surrounded by grandchildren in the same cottage she had grown up in, all the more possible, the more alluring.

"I love you," she mumbled against his chest, taking in his strong heartbeat.

"And I love you," he answered, somehow understanding all that went unsaid, like he had always been able to, ever since they had met a lifetime ago on that graveyard, when his life seemed to be all but over.

They could have stood there for hours, comfortable in each other's arms, with nothing but their breaths to fill the silence around them. Teddy, however, seemed to feel left out – or he was disappointed that his night's entertainment had ended so abruptly.

Either way, both of them turned immediately at the demanding babbling and made their way over to the bed. Dora took up their son, placed a kiss on his forehead and returned to her safe spot with her husband, Teddy held carefully between them. He seemed more than happy with that, trusting his parents to be there for him. Always.

"How about you tell us a story?" Dora asked, lips curled up in a half-smile. "You know, for good dreams, and all that."

Remus chuckled at that. "I'm pretty sure you already know all of my stories."

"Teddy doesn't," she shrugged. "Also I like listening to your voice."

"Ah, there it is, the bitter truth," he intoned, nodding gravely. "All this years you've kept me around for my voice only. I bet you never even paid attention to what I said."

"You've found me out," then she scrunched up her face thoughtfully. "Though I vaguely remember something about – was it a giant cat wandering around a forest and doing all kind of boring things?"

"Do you hear that, Teddy," he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Never believe a woman's word. They'll say anything to get what they want. And before you know it, you've parted with all your wisdoms and are left with nothing, while they never even cared."

"My, what an insightful man you are," Dora grinned, "I shall never let you have any say in my son's education. You'll corrupt him –"

"_I_ will corrupt him?" he looked at her aghast. "Oh the shame, having my virtues doubted by a flighty character such as yours."

She felt the trembling of his chest as he tried to contain the rising laughter. In response, she snuggled deeper into his embrace.

"You know," she said finally, thoughtful and content, "I think I will very much enjoy listening to you telling our story to Teddy. We've had our rough patches but-"

"It is a good story to tell," he agreed. "And it is not yet over."

Looking up at him, Dora nodded. "No, it is not."

* * *

Two days later, the news spread like fire.

_Potter is at Hogwarts. You-know-who is on the move. Be ready. We're fighting._

_This is it. We're fighting. We're fighting._

Dora would never have admitted it out loud, but she was afraid. Holding Teddy close to her chest, she really tried to listen to her mother's voice, but the pressure on her ears blocked out every sound.

Kingsley's patronus had roused them rather painfully from the peaceful routine their home life had turned into during the last weeks. They had tried to keep the war out, to create a safe haven to gather strength and use every single moment of calm as if it were their last. Until it was.

The voice of her former colleague had been collected, but he did not manage to hide the underlying tension, the trembling trepidation of knowing what was to come. It told them more than his words ever could.

This was no routine raid. No false alarm. It was the real thing, that would decide their future – or whether they would have one at all.

Remus had gotten up immediately, seemingly unhesitating. There was steel in his eyes and, for once, there was no trace of a smile on his lips when he looked at her and Teddy. Determination was oozing from his very being, resolve to fight and win and avenge everything he had lost.

She had envied him that, if only for a short moment. Then, there was all-consuming fear. For him. For _them_. For her dream.

As an Auror she should not feel that way. Danger was her area of expertise, fighting for her life, baiting death. And, truly, it was not herself she feared for. Mainly it was for her husband, whom she had had only for so short a time, and their son, who was so innocent and so dependant on them. For her mother, too, because she could not imagine the pain she would be going through if anything were to happen to them. Not after her father's death.

So she rose, only a couple of heartbeats later than him, needing the reassuring warmth of her son in her arms to gather her courage, before she could stand as strong and ready as Remus.

"No," he had said, when his eyes fell on her shrugging on her Auror robes, voice flat and unyielding. So very similar to his resistance to give in to his feelings what seemed like a lifetime ago – or mere seconds, now that their being together was suddenly threatened to be over again so soon.

"Yes," she had answered, not even bothering to look up at him. Oh, how she regretted that now, missing out on the chance to see his face and eyes and lips. Who knew how changed he would come back, or if – no, she was not going there. He would come back. He had to.

"Dora," the word held nothing of its usual warmth. Instead it was a drawn out, impatient sound.

"Yes, Remus," she snapped, while fastening her wand holder with one hand.

He had been silent then for a moment, tension filling the room, until she could feel him deflate.

"Dora," he repeated, allowing the chaos of his thoughts to show in his voice, causing her heart to stop and jump. Then he was there, right in front of her, cupping her face in caring hands.

The emotions in his amber eyes hurt almost physically. "I –" she started, but found she did not know what to say.

"I cannot lose you," Remus whispered.

Dora had been prepared to argue, to point out that she'd rather fight and do her part in securing their son's future than sit at home waiting and _staying safe_. She had waited for him to point out all his clever reasons as to why she should stay behind, that she should not risk her life when Teddy needed them, that there were enough people, that her wand, while greatly appreciated, would not be what would change this day's outcome.

She would have been able to fight that. But this – Remus being more vulnerable than she had seen him in a long time, letting all barriers fall. Not for a single second did she doubt his sincerity. The pain in his eyes was too real, the fear in his trembling fingers too familiar.

"I –" she tried again, feeling her resolve crumble. Finally she threw herself into his arms, needing to feel his warmth again, his heartbeat, strong and undeniably alive.

"Come back to me," she said, her tone urgent and longing. "Don't you dare die, Remus Lupin."

He held her, breathing a kiss onto the top of her head. "I won't leave you," he promised. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere where you are not."

Her eyes started burning, and she found herself oddly unwilling to fight them back. "Come back to me," she said again, the words echoing in her mind without pause.

"I love you."

A gentle, yet desperate, kiss, a squeeze, then he let go of her, and it seemed like all the warmth had left her body. Remus' movements seemed just a tad more reluctant than before, but she was not sure at all if she should be happy about that. He would need all his strength out there.

Gathering up Teddy in his arms for a last goodbye, their eyes locked again.

"Go down to your mother. I don't want you to be alone."

She must have nodded, because he handed their son over to her, took a deep breath, and was gone. It was all she could do, not to collapse right there and then.

Instead, she hugged the small body of her boy, and left herself, afraid of what she might do if the sudden silence would press in on her any longer.

Not that sitting in the kitchen with her mother, clinging to a mug of tea which had grown cold an eternity ago, was any better. Andromeda sat with her back straight, like she had been taught to, but her face was not as emotionless as she might have liked.

"I'm glad you are here," she had said, a strange emphasis on 'you', like she knew something Dora did not.

All that came after was slow, agonizing waiting, fear of being left behind mingled with the horror images of what might happen at Hogwarts while she was sitting in her childhood home pretending to listen to her mother's calming muttering.

It was impossible.

Like in a trance, she took hold of one of Teddy's tiny hands, squeezing it gently before placing a kiss on his brow.

"I love you," she choked out, and could have repeated it for a thousand times and it would not have been enough. "And your Dad loves you, too. Never doubt that, Teddy."

When she looked up, her mother was staring at her, a strange mix of resignation and panic warring in her eyes.

"Nymphadora," she started but fell silent again.

"I cannot," Dora answered nonetheless, trying to sound apologetic. She handed her son over, and made all her promises with the small smile gracing her lips.

"I love you, mum," she hugged the older woman goodbye and straightened.

Breathing seemed to be much easier, now that she knew what she had to do.

* * *

It was utter chaos.

Hogwarts was in near ruin. Walls were broken down, windows shattered, rubble filled the hallways were once carefree students had made their first steps into their own life. And where they were now dying.

_It's madness_, Dora thought, as she tried to make her way through the castle, dodging curses and throwing her own left and right. There were bodies covering the ground, and most of them were too small to allow her any illusions about which side they had been on.

_They are children_, she wanted to scream at a Death Eater who pointed a wand at some boy in Ravenclaw robes. The green light missed its target, but it was only a matter of time until someone else was hit.

The air was filled with dust and emerald and crimson. And she was sick of it.

"Where is Remus?" she had asked a thousand times by now. "Have you seen Professor Lupin?"

That was madness, too, she knew. She should focus on the fighting, on staying alive and taking as many of their enemies down as possible. But ever since she had appeared at what seemed to be the end of the world come true, all rational thought had been banned from her mind. All the endless hours with Moody in Auror training gone for the basic need to find her husband and hold him and make sure that he was safe.

As far as anyone could be safe here.

A spell grazed her, causing blood to soak her torn sleeve, but Dora never felt any pain. There was no time for anything to distract her.

"Have you seen Remus," she called out again, faintly registering someone answering something about the courtyard.

Seven years of living in the castle directed her steps automatically to her new destination, even if nothing looked like she remembered it.

When she stepped out into the waning light, relief flooded her veins. There he was, a mere hundred yards from her, alive and fighting. She wanted to call out to him, but she did not, not daring to distract him.

Instead she rushed through the mass of bodies and curses and death, calmer now, reassured somehow that everything would turn out fine. They were together again now. They would get through this like they had done before.

"If that isn't my dear little niece," a voice shrieked from her side, making her gut clench in fear. "Nymphadora is it?" Bellatrix' mad laughter filled the air.

Dora closed her eyes for a second, cursing her bad luck, then she readied herself to turn and fight. But when she looked up, she stared right into Remus' face, shocked and pale and full of disbelief.

"Dora," he mouthed, and some of his strength seemed to shatter, now that he knew her to not be safe at home.

Time seemed to slow then, as if the two of them were the only people left in their world.

Dolohov moved his wand in an elaborate arc and Lestrange danced in closer from behind. Dora saw both of that, but it seemed to have no meaning, no importance to them. She just continued her way, adamant on reaching Remus before this short moment of calm was over.

She almost did.

Her eyes were fixed on those of her husband, transferring a thousand words none of them had the time to speak out loud.

As her world was drowning in crimson and emerald she closed her eyes, not able to stand the thought of seeing him fall, though the picture was there nonetheless, his face growing blank, staring off into that future they wouldn't have.

_You're wasting time,_ a voice thundered in her head that sounded suspiciously like Moody. She knew that. Still, if she opened her eyes, it would be real. _If you do nothing, it will be real._

Her heart, hammering wildly in her chest, stopped for a moment, filled with Remus' smile and Teddy's orange hair and her mother waiting for them to come home.

And then she was moving.

* * *

Don't run away now. This is not the end. I couldn't be that heartless and follow canon (or rather you convinced me not to be).

So, the epilogue is coming up. Hope you like it and thank you for reading!


	16. This Might Be Heaven

Well, this is it. As promised they are still breathing and I'm very glad for it.

This one is for **BlueSwallow80**, without whom this wouldn't even exist and for being the first to ask me to let them live! Thank you so much for all your reviews!

I also thank **remusdora**, **VlightPhase** and **NovelLady**.

Hope you'll all like it.

* * *

"It is over," Remus' voice was hoarse, just like it was after particularly bad full moons. Now though, there was no pain in it, not much at least. There was joy, disbelief, and that overwhelming thought of all the possibilities ahead of them.

"Yes it is."

When he had spotted Dora during the battle, his heart had seemed to stop. There had been so many terrible things, children fighting, running, dying, Death Eaters throwing curse after curse without any regards for all they destroyed, Hogwarts, his home, in ruins, burning, turned into a place of death.

A strange calmness had filled him ever since he had left home and his family behind, all nervousness and fear pushed down. He knew what he had to do, what was on the line.

So he had fought, shielded his former students as best as he could and tried to buy them time at least when he could not. Determination ruled his mind while he locked away all unnecessary thoughts, fixing his gaze on silver masks, not on what he knew lay behind.

He had fought against a couple persons clad in black with green trimmings. _Children, _he thought,_ just like the rest of them._

But that could not stop him. If he allowed his conscience to take over, he had already lost.

And that was something he could not do. Not with Dora and Teddy waiting for him at home. His _wife_ and _son_.

With that thought echoing in his ears, it was easy to do his part, to stand strong and leave the mourning already singing in his bones for later.

That was, until, suddenly, _she _was there, right in front him, eyes wide and relieved – and nothing else mattered.

_Never turn your back to your opponent_, he had told his students during duelling lessons. _Never take your eyes off him. For then you are vulnerable._

But he did. His arm fell to his side, lifeless, and only years of training and war kept him from loosing his wand as all strength seemed to leave his body.

"Dora," he mouthed, never seeing Dolohov cast the spell that had already cost so many lives this day, or Lestrange closing in from the side. It was only them, with the storm continuing to rage around them.

Luckily for them, Dora was an Auror to through and through.

For a moment she simply stood just as frozen as him, small smile gracing her lips, but then her eyes flared to life with the fire she was so well known for.

Without sparing even a glance behind her, she pointed at her cousin and only the satisfying sound of a small explosion and a pained yelp told her she had hit. Then she was moving, faster and with surer steps than her usual clumsiness would have allowed in any other situation.

Here, however, it was pure instinct driving her.

Not bothering with putting up a shield, she merely bounded into her husband, sending both of them sprawling. The green light shooting over them made her heart stop for a moment before she snapped back into action, jumped to her feet and cast another blast towards Dolohov, taking him out. For good. Not that she minded.

"Remus," she then offered, sounding more calm than she had any right to be. Though she knew the shock would come later. For now, though, they had a battle to win.

They made sure to stay close together for the rest of this living nightmare, guarding each other's back, sparing a half-second now and then to touch each other briefly or sharing a look, just to reassure them, that their world had not stopped spinning.

And then, it was over.

"We should get back," Dora suggested half-heartedly, pressing herself deeper into Remus' side.

With his arms around her, she felt almost safe again, though she knew it would take time to deal with all that had happened around them these past hours.

"It is over," he merely repeated, prompting her to nod against his chest.

Though both of them knew, it was not.

Healers and nurses from St. Mungo's had arrived shortly after the main battle had stopped, starting the monstrous task of going through the countless bodies littering Hogwarts' grounds, separating the dead from the dying and those that could still be helped.

All the while, all those still standing were rounding up the remaining Death Eaters, taking out all that were resisting with grim faces and a little less mercy than they might have had a day prior.

Remus and Dora had been right there in the Great Hall when Voldemort had fallen, and, after making sure that Harry really was all right, had volunteered to browse the grounds, needing to get out of the rubble of what had once been their holdfast of Light.

Now, seemingly a lifetime later, things had calmed down. People were starting to leave for home and peace.

The two of them were standing close to the Lake, not really willing to move. Home called for them, too, the thought of their sweet son waiting was enough to help lift the shadow this day had left behind. The only problem was, they could not just disappear. And they really did not want to return to the centre of chaos.

Eventually, Remus sighed and nudged he slightly. "Let's go."

McGonagall and Kingsley were conversing in the Great Hall with serious faces, a few Aurors were hurrying around, and at the far end a number of strugglers, survivors, helpers was sitting tiredly on what had been the Slytherin table.

Ironic, really, that the victors of this war would sit there, where their enemy had sat once.

Then, of course, there were the bodies. Row on row the lay, neatly aligned. Someone had covered them with blankets, after they had been identified and listed.

Remus did his best not to look at them, not to think about them, really. How close they had come to be one of them, still and dead and gone.

"Remus, Tonks," Minerva called when she noticed them. She looked older than he had ever seen her. There was blood on her clothes, and her left sleeve was ripped, but she held herself straight as always, not willing to rest before she had sorted out this mess to the best of her abilities.

"Professor, Kingsley," he nodded.

"You're leaving, then? Andromeda must be anxious."

"We sent word when the fighting was done," Dora answered quietly. Thinking about her mother made ice spread through her again. How stupid she had been. How irresponsible.

Remus put his arm around her, silently transferring his understanding.

"Have you seen Harry?" he asked, only to receive a non-committal shrug.

"He's still around somewhere. Running himself ragged."

"Like you," Remus could not help but say. Minerva did not protest. "If you see him, tell him he knows where to find us."

* * *

The house was quiet, no lights were on, no sign of anyone being awake. But before they had made it even halfway to the entrance, the door flew open and Andromeda bolted out, looking more ruffled and tired than Remus had ever seen her.

"Mum," Dora called before she was pulled into a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, my sweet child," the usually so dignified woman all but sobbed.

"I'm here, Mum," any attempt at sounding soothing was ruined by the thickness in Dora's voice, emotion catching up with her.

Remus smiled at them, stepping back to give them more space, only to be fixed by an intense stare out of grey eyes.

"Come here," Andromeda demanded, one arm extended to him.

And, needing this just as much as them, Remus let himself be pulled into the arms of his family, relishing the warmth of living, breathing human beings, after hours of dealing with death.

"I was so worried."

"Shh, Mum, we're here now. We're not going anywhere."

They stood there for a small eternity, not caring about anything but them being able to do this at all.

Eventually, though, Dora looked up. "Where's Teddy?"

Then there was no holding them back, rushing inside to get to their son, who greeted them with bright eyes and a smile, as if to say, _What were you so worried about? I knew you wouldn't leave me alone._

"So it is really over?" Andromeda asked, watching them closely, hopeful where before had been mostly resignation.

"Yes," Remus answered, finally allowing himself to relax, to admit this truth to himself.

It was over. And now, the future was full of possibilities again, full of things to change, full of memories to make. To grow old and happy.

"Yes," he repeated. And they understood.

* * *

"Edward Remus Lupin," a loud voice echoed through the house, making all occupants duck their heads in expectation of the explosion that would surely follow. "Get down here this instant."

Hurried footsteps could be heard, though clearly getting _away_ from the stairs.

"That was not a smart move," Remus commented, looking at his wife over the rim of his book.

She grinned at him. "As he is sure to find out."

Nodding gravely, he chuckled to himself.

"You think this is amusing?" Andromeda spoke up from the doorway, her eyes narrowed. Ever since her hair had turned grey, she seemed to have become even more intimidating.

Thankfully, though, she did not wait for an answer. Instead she turned around and continued shouting. "I'm counting to three, young man. Don't make me come up."

"You know, I blame that on you," Dora looked at him serious, though there was mischief shining in her eyes.

"Me?," innocence laced his voice. It did not fool anyone.

"Yes you. What were you thinking, telling him all about your glorious Marauder days."

Remus puffed out his chest. "I'll have you know, that my Marauder days are far from over. I _am_ still breathing."

"Merlin help us all," she snorted, dodging the couch pillow flying right at her head.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He carefully laid aside his book, readying himself for her retaliation that would surely come. In fact, he seemed quite eager for it.

She dearly hoped, they would never change.

"What are you doing?" a young voice piped up from the doorway, amber eyes watching them curiously.

"Honey," Dora sputtered, letting the pillow in her raised hand fall abruptly, causing her husband to laugh at her when she managed to hit herself.

"Your mother was just reminiscing about how glad she is about my stabilizing influence on your character," then he mock-shuddered. "Imagine how you would have turned out with just her as role-model."

"I certainly did not."

Mira Lupin merely raised an eyebrow at her parents – something she had definitely picked up from her grandmother, and was frighteningly good at.

"Is anyone in this house _not _crazy?" she drawled.

"Of course not," Remus exclaimed quite happily. "That would be a shame, wouldn't it?"

"Anyway," Dora said, trying in vain to be subtle about rearranging the pillows. "Why are you down here? I thought you were going through your Hogwarts' books?" She threw a sideward glance at Remus, making it obvious she blamed him for that, too. Really, she had never loved books quite _that_ much.

"Trying to stay out of Gran's way," the girl shrugged, before getting comfortable on the couch. "Surely you heard her."

Her parents snickered at that.

"What did you brother do this time?"

"Remember that fireworks he got from Uncle George?" Her mother nodded warily, imagining to where this would lead. "Well, add to that the cupboard and Gran doing the laundry. And –"

She fell silent, as if suddenly remembering that Teddy and her had promised never to rat each other out. Then again, he had not really been subtle about this. And Gran had definitely noticed.

"And?," Remus prompted, mirth oozing from his voice.

"And he might have added one of those Finite-triggered dungbombs."

Her father erupted into laughter while her mother groaned. "Mum will kill him."

"She already is, from the sound of it."

"Nah, she's still screaming. The killing comes later."

"Well, I won't argue with you. Getting your mum riled up _is _your area of expertise."

Pillows flew. Laughter ensued. Life was good.

* * *

Later that night during dinner, Andromeda was still miffed about having to do her laundry _again_, while Ted did his best to look suitably ruffled about the dressing down he had received.

"And that is why you will _not_ go to your godfather's house tomorrow, but help me sort out this mess," though her voice was stern and her face a forbidding mask, there was clearly laughter in her eyes, for everyone to see.

Well, everyone who had years of experience and was not at the receiving end of her latest lecture.

"But Gran, we were going to play Quidditch," the boy exclaimed. His grandmother, however, was unwavering.

"You should have thought about that before you decided to pull your little stunt."

Remus could have sworn he heard his daughter add, "Or before you managed to get caught." Even though she was more studious than her brother, she, too, had inherited the Maurader spirit. But her pranks were usually much more subtle, and much harder to track back to her.

Remus' snickering unfortunately drew all attention to him. "Dad," Teddy whined, while Andromeda's expression dared him to say anything.

"Sorry, son," he offered, not sounding very apologizing, considering that had yet to turn serious again. "That really wasn't a clever thing to do."

"But –"

"Also, I'm sure you're glad to be able to spend some more time with your grandmother before you go back to Hogwarts next week."

His son's very astute imitation of a fish snapping for air, set him off laughing again. Then he muttered quietly, "It was still worth it."

Dora's grin seemed to say, "Well played."

"But I can still go, right?" Mira was caught between smiling mockingly at her brother and looking concerned. "Aunt Hermione promised to go over the first year curriculum with me."

"Of course you can," Dora reassured her. "Though you shouldn't worry so much about school. You've got your intelligence from your Dad."

That made both of them sit straighter, beaming with pride.

"And me?" Teddy piped up eagerly, forgetting for a second to be miffed about his ruined plans.

"Well," his mother drew out, seemingly hesitant. "Your OWLs won't be until next year. I'm sure we'll figure something out until then."

"Oi," the protest came as anticipated. "I'm not –"

"You're mother's having you on, dear. Most of the time, you are quite smart yourself." Teddy smiled widely at his grandmother, before remembering that he was supposed to be mad at her. His scowling raised another round of laughter.

Time with their family – all extended family included, of course – was never boring. And now, one week before the next Hogwarts' term started, they relished in how alive the house was.

It would be the first year that they would send both their children off, and Remus was sure their home would seem awfully quiet – eve though Dora and him were quite capable of rousing chaos themselves.

Regarding his family with the by now well known feeling of warmth and love spreading in his chest – he still wondered at times how he had managed to get this lucky – he leaned over towards his wife and whispered conspiratorial, "I think we should get another one."

She laughed and that, truly, was the most beautiful sound on earth.

* * *

Thank you for reading!


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